4£<§<k<1sK<‘§j 

S5S&J  £<<$  * -  fe -u  ‘i 

,.i.£  tV.-ocU:^ 


5®#»iM«5lS®« 


rtfu- 


3«SSsSSj4Jr“:a>; 

•r'.cr-.tciclArza  ret  i±a  *x?U: 


•  »w^r- 


Kg 


BHii 


liSiiSi 

ErtaSwasn  EaScwiz  ■  c~ j  :  e  :c  -  -  -. .-  ■ .  . 


'.  ;j/.: 


ppipi 


UjrK»a3<u 

SiliJCSKii; 


:>?.:o--. 


>3e«a®feja5ra3««|! 


i£4  I*A*j H&ZtXrX;  it  /VTc;  c;i 

lllliiife 


5  ^  * 1 ^  c*  s 1  t  *’ » *  d'  ■  *  r5, ;  ^ ' 1 1 

illSlIiliifeiii 


M $5 

llSIIisfc" 

iSt?g;i^}eCTSae^c5g«^tj«Kegeeagg«8«« 


r  •:,•■:•;■■ 


SiBliii 


mBsBKm 


IffiffiiEiSliss 


tzK?Olt*1c5c  *  ;  '■*■*  c*jj' 
111111111$ 


:>?h-V:.4;-:£ 


THIRTY  YEARS' 


CORRESPONDENCE, 

BETWEEN 

JOHN  JEBB,  D.D.  F.R.S. 

BISHOP  OF  LIMERICK,  ARDFERT  AND  AGHADOE, 

AND 

ALEXANDER  KNOX,  ESQ.  M.R.I.A. 


EDITED  BY 

THE  REV.  CHARLES  FORSTER,  B.D. 

PERPETUAL  CURATE  OP  ASH  NEXT  SANDWICH  : 
FORMERLY  DOMESTIC  CHAPLAIN  TO  BISHOP  JEBB. 


Second  Cdmom 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  I. 


LONDON: 

JAMES  DUNCAN,  37.  PATERNOSTER-ROW; 
AND  JOHN  COCHRAN,  108.  STRAND, 


MDCCCXXXVI. 


*<* 

h  '  '  f  i 


“  The  above  letter  is  almost  the  earliest  of  a  series,  terminating  only  with  the 
year  of  Mr.  Knox’s  death,  (1831,)  which  the  editor  has  long  cherished,  among 
his  choicest  treasures.  How  much  he  owes  to  this  correspondence,  .  .  how  much 
to  the  free,  familiar,  yet  paternal  converse,  of  many  thousand  happy  hours,  .  . 
how  much  to  the  uniform  example  of  this  true-hearted  Christian  philosopher, 
will  not  be  known,  until  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  are  disclosed.  But  thus  much 
he  can  say,  with  certainty,  that  scarce  a  day  elapses,  in  which  some  energetic 
truth,  some  pregnant  principle,  or  some  happy  illustration,  (and  those  illustrations 
were  always  powerful  arguments,)  does  not  present  itself,  for  which  he  was 
primarily  indebted  to  the  ever-salient  mind  of  Alexander  Knox.” 

Bishop  Jebb,  Extract  from  his  new  Edition  oj 
Burnet's  Lives ,  Introduction,  p.  xxix. 


-c.  * 

London : 

Printed  by  A.  Spottiswoodz, 
New-  Street-  Squ  are. 


i 


TO 

THE  HONOURABLE 

RICHARD  JEBE, 

SECOND  JUSTICE  OF  THE  COURT  OF  KING’S  BENCH 

IN  IRELAND. 

My  dear  Sir, 

Upon  the  opposite  page,  you  will  read  the  recorded 
judgment  of  my  late  honoured  friend,  the  Bishop 
of  Limerick,  upon  the  merits  of  Mr.  Knox’s  portion 
of  the  following  correspondence.  With  regard  to 
the  published  specimen  there  alluded  to,  Bishop 
Jebb’s  high  estimate  has  been  amply  borne  out : 
Mr.  Knox’s  letter  upon  Christian  preaching,  first 
printed  in  the  Bishop’s  introduction  to  Burnet’s 
Lives,  having  not  only  experienced  a  most  favour¬ 
able  reception  in  this  country,  but  having  been 
twice  re-published  in  North  America ;  the  second 

a  S 

570  0  4-9 


VI 


DEDICATION. 


time,  in  a  separate  form,  for  distribution  among  the 
epispocal  clergy. 

Upon  the  death  of  his  friend,  the  Bishop  received 
back  his  own  part  of  the  correspondence  ;  and 
having,  for  the  first  time,  carefully  perused  both 
sides  of  the  series,  as  a  whole,  he  confided  the 
manuscripts,  not  many  months  before  his  own  de¬ 
parture  hence,  to  my  care,  in  the  following  words:  . . 
‘  These  volumes  are  yours  ;  and  remember  the  cor¬ 
respondence  is  to  be  given  to  the  world/ 

Immediately  after  our  great  bereavement,  almost 
my  first  thoughts  were  directed  to  this  injunction, 
and  to  the  grateful,  though  trying  duty,  which  it 
laid  upon  me.  The  duty,  however  imperfectly,  is 
at  length  accomplished.  And  in  the  discharge  of 
my  sacred  trust,  I  feel  a  satisfaction,  which  words 
cannot  express,  in  the  opportunity  afforded  me  of 
inscribing  these  remains  to  one,  whom  Bishop  Jebb 
loved  as  the  best  of  brothers,  and  honoured  as  his 
second  father.  The  daily  companionship  of  nearly 
one  and  twenty  years,  enables  me  to  say,  that  the 
motto  prefixed  to  the  dedication  of  Practical  The¬ 
ology,  was  the  Bishop’s  prevailing  sentiment  through 
life :  — 

‘  Vivet  extento  Proculeius  aevo, 

Notus  in  fratres  animi  paterni !’ 


DEDICATION. 


•  • 
Vll 

With  regard  to  your  brother’s  part  of  the  corre¬ 
spondence,  the  name  of  Bishop  Jebb  will  sufficiently 
recommend  to  public  notice  any  writing  known  to 
come  from  his  pen.  It  may  be  mentioned,  however, 
as  an  interesting  fact,  that  Mr.  Knox  always  con¬ 
sidered  the  Bishop’s  familiar  letters,  as,  in  point  of 
composition,  the  mos  perfect  of  his  writings.  I  well 
remember  Mr.  Knox’s  strong  expression  to  myself  j 
to  this  effect,  so  far  back  as  the  year  1810.  He  had 
just  received  a  letter  from  your  brother,  which,  in 
taking  out  of  his  pocket  to  read  had  been  slightly 
creased.  The  accident  annoyed  him  for  the  moment, 
and  he  thought  it  right  to  explain  why  it  discom¬ 
posed  him.  Unfolding  the  injured  letter,  he  ob¬ 
served,  ‘  I  shall  lay  this  carefully  by ;  I  keep  all 
Mr.  Jebb’s  letters  ;  for  I  know  no  such  letter-writer 
in  the  English  language.  Every  letter  of  his  is  fit  to 
pass,  without  correction,  from  the  post-office  into  the 
printer’s  hands.’ 

In  preparing  the  correspondence  for  publication,  I 
find  evidence  of  still  earlier  date,  that,  in  Mr.  Knox’s 
judgment,  your  brother’s  letters  were  most  deserving 
of  permanent  preservation. 

The  value  of  a  correspondence  so  long  and  in¬ 
timate,  between  two  such  minds,  upon  subjects  the 
most  interesting  that  can  engage  the  thoughts  of 


VI  n 


DEDICATION. 


man,  will  be  felt  by  every  reflecting  reader.  For 
myself,  I  can  only  add,  that,  taking  together  the 
ability  and  attainments  of  the  correspondents,  and 
the  perfect  freedom,  the  entire  absence  of  reserve, 
which  characterize,  throughout,  their  interchange  of 
thought,  I  am  unaware  of  the  existence,  in  our 
own  or  in  any  language,  of  a  correspondence  similar 
in  interest  or  importance  to  that  between  Alexander 
Knox  and  Bishop  Jebb. 

I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 

With  great  respect, 

Your  truly  obliged  and  affectionate 

Friend  and  Servant, 

CHARLES  FORSTER. 

Vicarage ,  Ash  next  Sandwich , 

May  29.  1834. 


ADVERTISEMENT 

TO 

THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


In  compliance  with  a  wish  somewhat  generally  felt 
and  expressed,  the  editor  has  thought  it  right  to  give 
an  Index,  and  translations  of  the  greek  and  latin 
passages.  For  the  verse  translations  marked  with 
inverted  commas,  the  public  is  indebted  to  the  kind¬ 
ness  of  two  of  the  friends,  who  suggested  the  desir¬ 
ableness  of  these  additions  ;  and  to  a  third  friend,  for 
the  important  addition  of  the  Index. 


Just  Published , 


THE  LIFE  OF  JOHN  JEBB,  D.D.  F.R.S. 


BISHOP  OF  LIMERICK,  ARDFERT  AND  AGHADOE. 

WITH 

A  SELECTION  FROM  HIS  LETTERS. 


BY 


THE  REV.  CHARLES  FORSTER,  B.  D. 


LETTER  1. 


July  25.  1799. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  yesterday  received  a  letter  from  the  Bishop  of 
Kilmore,  letting  me  know  that  he  had  recommended 
you  to  a  vacant  cure  in  his  diocese,  in  Dean  Blun¬ 
dell’s  parish  of  Swanl inbar ;  and  the  Dean  called  on 
me  this  day,  to  tell  me  that  he  was  ready  to  acquiesce 
with  pleasure  in  the  Bishop’s  recommendation.  In 
order  to  enable  you  to  judge  how  far  the  business 
may  be  eligible  for  you,  I  will  transcribe  that  part  of 
the  Bishop’s  letter. 

“  Dean  Blundell  has  offered  me  the  curacy  of  Swan- 
linbar  ;  I  have  accepted  of  it,  and  recommended  Mr. 
Jebb  for  it,  if  the  appointment  should  meet  his  and 
your  wishes.  I  am  anxious  to  have  a  creditable  cler¬ 
gyman  fixed  there,  it  being  a  place  of  fashionable 
resort  during  the  summer.  I  conceive,  too,  that,  for 
him,  it  will  offer  better  accommodations  than  most 
country  towns  in  Ireland.  By  accepting  of  it,  he 
will  obtain  a  footing  in  the  diocese  :  it  is  the  first 
establishment  which  has  offered  since  you  spoke  to 
me.  I  own  I  wish  it  may  suit  him  ;  but  do  not  ima¬ 
gine  that  I  make  a  point  of  his  accepting  it.” 

Now,  my  dear  Mr.  Jebb,  all  I  can  say  is,  consider 
the  point,  and  make  your  election  as  speedily  as  you 
can  ;  for  Dean  Blundell  is  impatient  to  have  the  cure 
filled ;  as  it  has  been  some  time  vacant,  to  the  no 


VOL.  i. 


B 


Q 

/-W 


small  detriment  of  the  parish.  I  need  make  no  re¬ 
mark  to  you,  I  am  sure,  on  the  kind,  candid,  gentle¬ 
manlike  manner  in  which  the  Bishop  expresses  himself. 
It  is  in  unison  with  every  thing  I  have  seen  in  him. 
Your  own  views  and  feelings,  however,  must  decide  ; 
and  if  it  be  in  favour  of  the  appointment,  you  must 
arrange  matters  for  entering  on  it  without  delay.  It 
is  not  the  cure,  strictly,  of  the  parish,  but  of  a  chapel 
of  ease  ;  the  salary,  the  usual  one,  50/. 

Write  to  me  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  believe  me, 

Very  truly  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  I. 

To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 

Swanlinbar,  Ballyconnel,  May  29.  1800. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  have  frequently  accused  myself  of  scandalous  neg¬ 
lect,  in  not,  long  since,  having  given  you  some  account 
of  my  situation  here.  I  did,  indeed,  write  you  one 
letter,  many  months  ago  ;  but  I  am  ignorant  whether 
it  ever  reached  you.  Since  that,  I  was  not  certain  in 
what  part  of  England  you  were  ;  but,  from  some 
inquiries  I  made,  I  am  happy  to  find,  that  your  health 
and  spirits  are  both  better,  than  when  I  had  last  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you. 

By  your  kindness,  I  am  embarked  in  my  profession 
in  a  manner  as  favourable  as  I  could  possibly  have 
wished  ;  and  much  more  so  than  I  ever  had  any 
reason  to  expect.  In  the  Bishop  of  Kilmore,  I  have 
experienced  a  gentleman,  and  a  friend.  His  man- 


3 


ners  are  highly  pleasing,  and  his  attention  to  me  has 
been  such,  as  clearly  proves,  that  he  had  a  high  re¬ 
gard  for  your  recommendation.  Added  to  this,  when 
I  find  him  a  good  man,  and  a  truly  pious  Christian, 
surely  I  need  not  say,  that  it  is  delightful  to  me  to 
have  commenced  my  duties  under  him.  Independent 
of  any  prospects,  I  am  happy  at  being  placed  in  his 
diocese ;  and  I  shall  not  attempt  to  thank  you  for 
the  introduction  you  gave  me  to  such  a  man,  because 
I  never  could  do  so  sufficiently. 

I  find  myself  very  pleasantly  situated.  Immedi¬ 
ate  neighbourhood  I  have  none,  except  one  family. 
That  family  is  very  pleasing,  friendly,  and  good. 
Their  house  is  always  open  to  me  ;  and  they  are  most 
ready  to  co-operate  in  any  plan  for  the  good  of  the 
poorer  classes ;  teaching  and  clothing  their  children, 
and  providing  them  with  work.  At  a  greater  distance, 
I  have  an  intercourse  with  Mr.  Woodward*,  Lord 
Enniskillen,  and  the  Bishop  :  this  society,  parochial 
duties,  and  my  books,  occupy  my  time  very  com¬ 
pletely  ;  and  leave  me  no  room  to  complain  of  heavy 
hours. 

I  have  followed  your  advice,  in  occasionally  mak¬ 
ing  a  particular  sermon  of  Tillotson,  or  Seeker,  my 
model ;  following  their  arguments,  and  adopting  their 
arrangement.  I  have,  also,  preached  a  kind  of  com¬ 
mentary  on  a  Psalm,  now  and  then  ;  keeping  in  view 
your  very  useful  lecture  in  Dawson  Street,  on  that 
subject :  this  practice  I  find  extremely  pleasant  to 
myself,  and  do  not  think  it  is  unpleasing  to  my  con¬ 
gregation.  These  are,  for  the  most  part,  of  the  lower 

*  The  Rev.  Henry  Woodward,  youngest  son  of  Richard  Woodward,  D.  D. 
Bishop  of  Cloyne;  and,  through  after-life,  one  of  Bishop  Jebb’s  most  attached 
and  valued  friends.  —  Ed. 

B  2 


4 


order  ;  very  decent,  regular,  and  attentive-  I  almost 
regret,  that  the  arrival  of  water-drinkers  is  so  near. 

I  think  I  could  preach  more  usefully  to  my  own  poor, 
but  respectable  audience  :  they  are,  in  general,  about 
150  in  number  ;  sometimes,  much  more. 

I  have  a  near  neighbour  (at  Florence  Court)  Wm. 
Cole,  with  whom,  till  lately,  I  have  had  but  little 
intercourse.  He  is  a  most  respectable  young  man  ; 
as  a  clergyman,  extremely  zealous  and  correct.  I 
should  wish,  very  much,  to  cultivate  an  acquaintance 
with  him ;  and  was  happy  to  find  him  lately  making 
advances,  towards  my  more  frequently  visiting  at  his 
father’s.  He  has  made  it  very  much  his  business  to 
study  the  tastes,  and  dispositions  of  his  parishioners  ; 
going  to  their  houses ;  inviting  them  to  the  Sacra¬ 
ment  ;  and  preaching  in  a  manner  level  to  their 
understandings.  There  are  few  young  men  of  rank, 
who  take  so  much  pains ;  and  I  am  convinced  that  I 
may  derive  from  him  much  useful  information.  It  is 
very  happy  that  he  is  settled  in  a  place,  where  the 
rank  and  influence  of  his  family  give  him  so  many 
opportunities  of  doing  good. 

I  hope  and  trust,  that  you  continue  to  mend  in 
health  and  spirits.  I  should  think,  that  the  variety  of 
situation,  and  the  air  of  England,  must  be  useful  to 
you.  It  would  give  me  true  pleasure,  if,  in  any 
leisure  half  hour,  you  would  let  me  know  how,  and 
where,  you  are ;  there  are,  I  believe,  very  few,  who 
wish  more  sincerely  for  your  welfare,  —  I  am  sure 
none  have  better  reason, — than  I.  That  you  maybe 
well  and  happy,  that  it  may  please  God  to  continue 
you  long  to  your  friends,  and  to  society,  is  the  wish 
and  prayer,  of  your  obliged 

And  most  sincere  friend  and  servant, 

John  Jebb. 


5 


LETTER  II. 
To  A.  Knox,  Esq . 


Swanlinbar,  Ballyconnel,  Nov.  6.  1800. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  have  just  learnt  your  address  in  London,  and  can¬ 
not  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  writing  you  a  few 
lines.  I  heard,  lately,  from  my  brother,  that  you 
favoured  him  with  your  company  for  one  day.  I 
hope  and  trust  that  your  health  continues  in,  at  least, 
as  good  a  state,  as  when  he  saw  you.  I  have  often 
wished  for  some  more  satisfactory  way  of  learning 
where,  and  how,  you  were,  than  from  inquiries 
which  could  be  seldom  made,  and  still  less  frequently 
answered.  If  you  could  spare  so  much  time,  I  believe 
few  would  be  more  gratified  than  I  should,  to  hear 
from  yourself,  a  little  of  yourself :  however,  I  should 
be  sorry  to  trespass  upon  time,  which  is  employed  to 
far  better  purpose.  Do  not,  therefore,  think  of  writ¬ 
ing,  till  you  have  a  vacant  hour ;  should  any  occur, 
I  would  be  extremely  gratified  by  your  giving  me  a 
line. 

The  extreme  retirement  of  this  place  gives  me 
abundant  time  for  reading.  I  wish  I  were  able  to 
give  a  good  account  of  the  method  in  which  it  is  em¬ 
ployed.  However,  I  can  say,  I  am  not  absolutely 
idle ;  and  in  the  duties  of  the  parish,  and  occasional 
visits  to  my  friends,  I  find  sufficient  relaxation.  I 
have  it  in  contemplation  to  study  greek  with  some 
care  ;  chiefly  with  a  view  to  make  myself  well  ac- 

b  3 


6 


quainted  with  the  New  Testament.  I  propose  begin¬ 
ning  with  the  historians ;  Herodotus,  Thucydides, 
&c.  I  should  be  very  thankful  for  your  opinion  of 
this  plan.  I  by  no  means  intend  to  let  it  exclude 
divinity,  and  english  literature.  Two  hours  a  day  is 
all  I  would  give  up  to  it. 

I  have  been,  very  lately,  with  the  Bishop  of  Kil- 
more.  The  more  I  see  him,  the  more  reason  have  I 
to  admire  and  esteem  him.  I  think  myself  happy  in 
the  society  of  such  a  man  ;  and  am  not  without  hopes 
that  I  receive  improvement  from  every  visit  I  make 
him.  His  piety  is  unaffected ;  his  understanding  is 
sound  ;  and  his  opinions  are  most  correct.  If  I  do 
not  improve  by  his  example,  it  is  my  own  fault.  I 
often  meet,  with  him,  a  very  excellent,  and  very 
learned  man,  Dr.  Hales. 

Both - and - are  very  anxious  for  the  com¬ 

pletion  of  the  Flapper.*  According  to  the  original 
plan,  there  were  to  have  been  108  Nos. ;  75  only 
have  appeared.  Its  publication  in  London  is  depre¬ 
cated,  in  the  present  unfinished  state.  Dr. - 

would  engage  for  his  full  proportion  :  so  would - . 

The  latter  would,  also,  rally  the  contributors  in 
Dublin.  Dr. —proposes  signifying,  by  advertise¬ 
ment,  that  a  letter-box  will  be  open  till  the  1st  of 
January  ;  and  publishing  all  the  additional  numbers 
together,  on  the  1st  of  February.  Then,  he  says,  the 
entire  work  might  go,  in  a  handsome  manner,  to 
Rivington’s  press.  Your  co-operation  is  earnestly 

requested.  -  has  no  doubt  of  the  Dublin 

Flappers.  I  have  been  invited  to  take  a  share  ;  and, 
though  very  fearful  that  I  should  be  wofully  deficient, 
would  endeavour  to  do  something,  if  the  business 
were  taken  up. 


*  A  literary  journal,  published  in  Dublin.  —  Ed. 


>*7 

t 


If  you  can  spare  time,  an  answer  to  this  will  make 
me  very  happy. 


Believe  me,  dear  Sir, 

Your  much  obliged  and  affectionate 

humble  servant, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  III. 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq , 

December  4.  J  800. 

My  Dear  Sir, 

I  do  assure  you,  I  know  not  when  I  received  a 
letter,  which  gave  me  so  much  real  gratification,  as 
that  you  had  the  goodness  to  write  me.  I  need  not, 
I  trust,  say,  that  I  am  truly  sorry  for  the  cause  of 
your  former  silence.  Your  letter,  however,  is  to  me 
a  most  acceptable  proof,  that  your  state  of  health  is 
improved  ;  I  am  willing  to  imagine,  that  its  length 
proves  not  only  your  kindness  to  me,  but,  also,  the 
absence  of  any  oppressive  complaint.  To  write  to 
you,  will  always  be  a  pleasure  to  me  ;  but,  however 
anxious  I  may  be  to  hear  from  you,  I  beg  and 
intreat,  that  you  never  may  attempt  writing,  when  it 
does  not  perfectly  suit  your  state  of  health  and  spirits. 
I  shall  certainly,  as  you  desire  it,  frequently  indulge 
myself  by  writing  to  you  ;  and  will  be  amply  repaid 
by  a  few  lines,  whenever  you  can  give  them  perfectly 
at  your  ease . 

Your  kind  expressions  concerning  my  brother,  are 
such  as  demand  my  warmest  thanks.  I  feel  their 
value  the  more  sensibly,  because  I  know  they  are 

b  4 


8 


sincere,  and  think  they  are  merited.  In  him,  I 
have  experienced,  not  only  a  brother,  but  an  adviser, 
a  friend,  and  a  father ;  I  assure  you,  he  has  more 
than  once  reminded  me  of  Proculeius,  —  *  Notus  in 
fratres  animi  paterni.’  That  he  should  marry,  is, 
and  has  long  been,  a  favourite  wish  of  mine ;  I  hope 
and  believe  that  he  will  do  so  :  he  is  a  man  of 
domestic  habits,  exceedingly  attached  to  ‘  home¬ 
bred  happiness.’  My  sister  would,  I  am  sure,  be 
happy  in  your  favourable  opinion  ;  in  a  letter  I  so  m 
time  since  received  from  her,  she  expressed  herself 
of  you  as  she  ought. 

I  have  not  very  lately  seen  the  Bishop  ;  but  shall, 
please  God,  soon  take  a  trip  to  Kilmore.  I  will  not 
fail,  then,  to  look  at  the  passage  in  the  British  Critic, 
you  so  kindly  pointed  out.  I  will,  I  fancy,  take  in 
that  publication,  from  January  next. 

I  agree  perfectly  with  you  in  deprecating  illiberal 
churchmanship.  I  read  the  notice  to  Rusticus,  and 
think  it  as  fair  and  candid,  as  could  possibly  be 
expected. 

For  your  kindness  in  procuring  me  Lowth  and 
Blackwall,  I  feel  much  indebted.  They  are  books 
which  I  had  a  great  inclination  to  read ;  their  value 
will  certainly  experience  no  diminution,  by  their 
coming  from  you.  Sacred  criticism  I  have  always 
looked  forward  to,  since  I  thought  of  divinity,  as  a 
very  principal  and  delightful  branch  of  my  future 
studies;  and  Marsh’s  Michaelis,  with  Lardner,  &c. 
&c.,  I  purposed  procuring.  I  am,  therefore,  happy 
to  find  my  intentions  corroborated,  by  your  opinion. 
I  shall  keep  in  view  your  caution  as  to  Michaelis’s 
boldness.  I  fancy  some  caution  will  be  also  neces¬ 
sary,  in  using  Lardner.  Cruden’s  english,  and  Schmi- 
dius’s  greek  Concordances,  properly  used,  will,  per- 


9 


haps,  be  the  most  effectual  guards  against  any  thing 
fanciful ;  by  leading  to  Scripture,  as  its  own  expositor. 
Any  criticism  that  is  just,  an  accurate  investigation 
of  Scripture  must  confirm.  Whatever  is  unfair,  or 
unscriptural,  will  not  stand  the  test,  but  must  meet 
detection. 

I  discovered,  lately,  a  most  brilliant  passage,  in 
Spenser’s  Fairy  Queen,  astonishingly  applicable  to 
the  present  times  ;  Book  5.  Canto  2.  Stanza  29.  ad 
finem.  It  depicts  the  arrogant  impugners  of  the 
natural  and  moral  dispensations  of  Providence, —  the 
unsettlers  and  equalizers,  the  democrats  and  deists, — 
in  most  vivid  and  appropriate  colours.  I  really 
believe,  that,  if  a  person  of  considerable  talents  were 
to  sit  down,  for  the  express  purpose  of  attacking  such 
gentry,  in  the  style  of  Spenser,  he  could  not  do  it 
in  so  exact  and  so  poignant  a  manner,  as  Spenser 
has  done.  He  would  use  more  antiquated  words 
(which  you  will  observe  are  very  rare  in  this  pas¬ 
sage)  ;  and  he  would  be  afraid  to  venture  certain 
words,  which  seem  of  modern  coinage,  and  which 
Spenser  has  almost  prophetically  given,  —  ‘  equalize 
—  uncontrouled  freedom  —  equality  —  innovation  — 
lordings  —  commons,’  &c.  &c. 

I  should  think  it  a  great  pity,  if  this  eloquent  and 
admirably  descriptive  passage  were  not  given  to  the 
world,  with  suitable  remarks.  The  writings  of  God¬ 
win,  Paine,  Darwin,  and  Co.  would  afford  an  excellent 
commentary.  I  had  thoughts  of  sending  it  to  the 
Gentleman’s  Magazine  myself ;  but,  on  some  con¬ 
versation  with - ,  am  of  opinion,  it  should  pass 

from  abler  hands  than  mine.  I  wish  you  had 
leisure  and  inclination  to  take  it  up.  It  would  take, 
well  edited  with  notes,  somewhat  after  the  style  of  the 
‘  Pursuits  of  Literature.’  If  you  decline  it,  might  it 


not,  by  some  means,  be  put  into  the  ‘  Pursuer’s  ’ 
hands,  or  suggested  to  Mr.  Canning  ?  I  beg  you  will 
inform  me  of  your  opinion  on  the  subject. 

I  hear  a  report  that  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin  is 
dead.  May  there  not  be  some  prospect  of  our  ex¬ 
cellent  friend’s  removal  to  Cashel  ? 

Believe  me  your  most  faithful  and  obliged 

friend  and  servant, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  IV. 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 


Swanlinbar,  Dec.  31.  1800. 

My  dear  Sir, 

Though  I  consider  it  highly  probable  you  have,  by 
this  time,  fixed  your  quarters  at  Bristol,  I  write  this, 
at  random,  to  London  ;  concluding,  that,  if  you  have 
removed,  the  persons  with  whom  you  lodged  are 
acquainted  with  your  address. 

I  have  not  lately  seen  the  Bishop  of  Kilmore ;  but 
purpose,  please  God,  as  soon  as  I  have  shaken  off  a 
cold,  produced  by  this  raw  weather  in  a  very  damp 
country,  to  pay  him  a  visit.  He  went  to  town  the 
26th  inst.  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  new  primate  ; 
but  will,  I  am  informed,  speedily  return.  I  wish  he 
could  be  prevailed  upon  to  vary  the  scene,  by  remain¬ 
ing  a  little  longer. 

Since  I  last  wrote  to  you,  I  have  experienced 
much  pleasure,  and  derived  no  small  advantage,  from 
a  correspondence,  which  has  been  pretty  briskly  car¬ 
ried  on,  between  Stop  ford  of  the  College,  and  me. 


11 


Every  letter  that  he  writes,  is  calculated  to  make 
him  who  receives  it  a  better  Christian.  He  abounds 
in  truly  ardent  zeal ;  his  simplicity,  humility,  and 
benevolence  are  most  edifying  ;  he  has  a  charitable 
and  friendly  feeling  for  Christians  of  all  denomina¬ 
tions  ;  and  it  is  his  supreme  wish,  to  promote  piety  in 
sentiment  and  practice,  and  the  knowledge  of  gospel 
truth.  I  am  not  without  sanguine  hopes  of  his  exer¬ 
tions,  and  example,  having  a  happy  influence  on  the 
minds  and  habits  of  young  students  (he  is  lecturer 
in  divinity)  :  if  they  only  follow  his  advice,  they 
will  become  exemplary  clergymen.  And  I  think  it 
nearly  impossible,  that  many  of  them  should  not 
imbibe  some  of  his  spirit,  and  be  warmed  by  a  por¬ 
tion  of  his  zeal. 

My  present  study  is  the  Bible,  without  any  com¬ 
mentary  :  the  object,  to  acquire  a  general  view  of 
God’s  dispensations.  After  having  gone  through 
the  Sacred  Volume,  I  purpose  reading  general  views 
of  Scripture  ;  and,  then,  applying  the  information 
acquired  from  them ;  reading  over  the  Bible  again ; 
reviewing  my  remarks  ;  and  looking  at  the  queries 
put  down ;  for  I  do  not,  now,  stop  to  investigate 
minute  difficulties.  For  all  this,  I  allow  about  a 
year.  And  then,  with  God’s  help,  having  formed 
some  ideas  for  myself,  I  propose  to  enter  on  a  plan 
of  general  study,  in  which  divinity  shall  be  the 
grand  object,  and  all  the  branches  shall  be  sub¬ 
ordinate. 

Correspondence  on  religious  topics,  I  believe, 
would  be  extremely  useful.  Stopford  says,  he  has 
found  it  of  singular  service  ;  and  strongly  recom¬ 
mends  it  to  me.  His  letters  are  a  great  treasure.  I 
find,  in  them,  a  powerful  stimulus  to  exertion ;  and, 
at  the  same  time,  a  serious  call  to  humility.  They 


12 


unite,  in  an  uncommon  degree,  fervour,  and  a  sense 
of  man’s  weakness  in  himself.  They  have  created 
in  me  some  new  feelings.  And  I  heartily  implore 
God’s  grace,  that  I  may  improve  by  them  as  I 
ought. 

Whenever  you  can  conveniently  write,  I  would 
be  particularly  obliged  to  you  for  your  advice ; 
whether  as  to  study,  or  practice,  or  methods  of  im¬ 
proving  my  religious  feelings. 

I  should  be  very  thankful  for  a  few  ideas,  on  what 
Christian  preaching  should  be  :  it  is  a  complaint  with 
many,  and  I  believe  in  some  measure  just,  that 
clergymen  do  not  sufficiently  preach  the  peculiar 
doctrines  of  our  religion.  What  do  you  conceive  to 
be  the  mean,  between  cold  morality,  and  wild  en¬ 
thusiasm,  in  preaching? 

Have  you  thought  about  the  passage  in  Spenser, 
which  I  mentioned  ? 

I  was  much  taken  with  an  epitaph  on  Voltaire,  in 
the  Gentleman’s  Magazine  for  December.  Do  you 
think  it  could  possibly  be  translated  ? 

Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  excuse  this  too 
hasty  and  imperfect  letter,  written  at  the  close  of  a 
very  busy  day,  and  believe  me 

Your  most  obliged  and  affectionate 

friend  and  servant, 

John  Jebb. 


13 


LETTER  2. 

Shrewsbury,  Jan.  29.  1801. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  thank  you  much,  for  your  last  letter :  I  sat  down 
to  answer  it,  several  days  ago  ;  but  I  began  on  a 
larger  scale,  than  I  was  able  to  accomplish  :  I  must, 
therefore,  be  content  to  take  in  my  sails ;  not,  as  is 
customary,  because  there  is  too  much  wind,  .  .  but, 
because  there  is  not  enough  to  fill  them. 

What  you  say  of  Stopford  #  is  just,  in  every  respect : 
he  is  an  uncommonly  good  man  ;  and  you  cannot  do 
better,  than  keep  up  a  correspondence  with  him. 
The  grand  deficiencies  in  right  temper  and  conduct, 

*  ‘  The  Rev.  Joseph  Stopford,  D.  D.  then  fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin, 
afterwards  rector  of  Letterkenny,  Ireland.  The  motives  of  delicacy  which,  in 
1832,  led  to  the  suppression  of  his  name,  no  longer  exist :  he  died  this  year  (1833) 
alike  regretted  and  beloved.’ — Bp.  Jebb  :  note  to  the  2nd  edition  of  his  Burnet’s 
Lives,  Introduction,  p.  vi. 

Before  the  close  of  the  same  year  (December  9.  1833),  the  Bishop  of  Limerick 
was  himself  taken  to  his  reward :  — 

*  He  taught  us  how  to  live,  and  (oh  !  too  high 
The  price  of  knowledge)  taught  us  how  to  die  !  ’ 

The  following  brief  notice,  taken  from  a  public  journal,  is  so  justly  descriptive, 
that  it  claims  more  permanent  preservation  :  — 

*  Died,  on  the  9th  instant,  at  East  Hill,  Wandsworth,  in  the  59th  year  of  his 
age,  after  a  long  illness,  the  Right  Reverend  John  Jebb,  D.  D.  F.R.S.,  Lord 
Bishop  of  Limerick,  Ardfert,  and  Aghadoe.  For  nearly  seven  years,  he  had 
suffered  under  the  effects  of  a  violent  paralytic  seizure,  which  compelled  him  to 
withdraw  from  the  more  active  duties  of  his  See,  and  to  reside  in  this  country  for 
the  benefit  of  medical  advice.  But  his  mind  survived  his  body ;  and,  while  an 
invalid  scarcely  able  to  move  about  his  room,  even  with  assistance,  he  continued 
an  anxious  and  watchful  care  over  his  diocese,  and  employed  the  hours  of  languor 
and  sickness  in  the  preparation  and  publication  of  works  original,  or  those  of 
other  great  divines,  for  the  benefit  of  the  church  of  Christ.  In  private  life  he 
was  among  the  most  amiable  and  beloved  of  men,  with  a  singular  faculty  of 
attaching  all  of  every  age  to  him.  In  literature,  he  was  among  the  most  distin¬ 
guished  biblical  scholars  of  the  age ;  and,  in  personal  humility  and  piety,  he  was 
worthy  of  his  office  as  a  Christian  bishop.’  —  Ed. 


14 


arise,  much  more,  from  want  of  right  feelings,  than 
from  want  of  knowledge  :  and  right  feelings  cannot, 
so  certainly,  be  either  obtained,  or  improved,  as  by 
communication,  and  close  intercourse,  with  those 
who  possess  them.  ‘  As  iron  sharpeneth  iron,  so 
doth  the  countenance  of  a  man,  his  friend  :’  Solomon 
said  some  true  things ;  and  this  is  not  the  least 
important  of  them. 

You  say,  that,  *  it  is  nearly  impossible,  that  many 
of  those,  who  attend  Stop  ford’s  divinity  lectures, 
should  not  imbibe  some  of  his  spirit,  and  be  warmed 
by  a  portion  of  his  zeal.’  It  is,  indeed,  impossible. 
True  religion  is  happily  contagious  :  and,  I  am  sure, 
it  owed  its  rapid  progress,  in  the  early  ages  of  the 
church,  infinitely  more,  to  the  divine  infection,  (if  I 
may  use  such  an  expression,)  that  attended  the  spirit 
of  the  Apostles,  than  to  the  demonstrative  evidence 
of  their  miracles.  I  believe,  there  never  yet  was  a 
really  good  man,  I  mean,  a  zealous,  decided  Chris¬ 
tian,  whose  lively  expression  of  his  own  feelings,  did 
not,  more  or  less,  reach  the  hearts  of  those  who 
heard  him. 

And  this,  in  some  degree,  answers  your  ques¬ 
tion,  ‘  What  Christian  preaching  should  be  ?  ’  At 
least,  it  points  out  an  indispensable  pre-requisite  : 
Christian  preaching  can  arise-,  only,  from  a  Christian 
mind  and  heart.  This  is  the  great  want  in  the 
preaching  of  to-day :  there  is  no  spirit  in  it.  It  is 
the  result  of  a  kind  of  intellectual  pumping  ;  there  is 
no  gushing  from  the  spring.  Our  Saviour,  speaking 
to  the  woman  of  Samaria,  of  the  happiness  which  his 
religion  would  bring,  into  the  bosoms  of  those  who 
cordially  embraced  it,  elegantly  and  expressively 
represents  it,  by  a  well  of  water  in  the  breast, 

‘  springing  up  into  everlasting  life.*  Where  this 


15 


is  in  a  minister,  it  will  spring  out ,  as  well  as  spring 
up :  and  it  will  be  felt  to  be  living  water,  from  the 
pleasure  and  refreshment  which  it  conveys,  almost 
even  to  minds  hitherto  unaccustomed  to  such  com¬ 
munications. 

What  Horace  says,  is  quite  in  point :  — 

Non  satis  est  pulchra  esse  poemata,  dulcia  sunto : 

Et,  quocunque  volunt  animum  auditoris  agunto. 

Ut  ridentibus  arrident,  ita  flentibus  adsunt 
Humani  vultus.  Si  vis  me  flere,  dolendum  est 
Primum  ipsi  tibi ;  tunc  tua  me  infortunia  laedent  :* 

the  Pulchra,  is  all,  that  a  man  who  does  not  himself 
feel,  can  attain  to,:  the  Dulcia,  is  the  offspring  of  an 
impressed,  and  interested  heart.  But,  if  such  effects 
were  to  be  produced,  by  the  mere  feeling  exhibition 
of  human  distress,  what  may  not  be  looked  for,  from 
divine  truths,  .  .  interesting  to  the  hearer,  no  less 
than  to  the  speaker ;  and  interesting,  beyond  all  that 
can  be  conceived,  to  every  natural  sentiment  of 
man,  .  .  when  done  justice  to,  in  the  same  way,  that 
Horace  here  demands  for  the  drama  ? 

A  witty  poet  has  well  said, .  . 

The  specious  sermons  of  a  worldly  man, 

Are  little  more  than  flashes  in  the  pan  : 

The  mere  haranguing  upon  what  men  call 
Morality,  is  powder  without  ball : 

But  he,  who  preaches  with  a  Christian  grace, 

Fires  at  our  vices,  and  the  shot  takes  place. 

But  you  also  ask,  *  what  do  I  conceive  to  be  the 
mean,  between  cold  morality,  and  wild  enthusiasm  ?  * 

*  ’Tis  not  enough  to  weave  the  graceful  line, 

With  grace  thy  poems  sweetness  should  combine ;  - — 

A  melting  tenderness  must  mellow  art, 

If  thou  would’st  move  at  will  the  hearer’s  heart. 

To  every  mood  the  human  face  can  turn, 

Smile  with  the  smiling,  with  the  mourner  mourn  ; 

Would’st  thou  my  tears  ?  First  bid  thy  sorrows  flow, 

My  heart  then  bleeds  with  sympathetic  woe. 


16 


To  this,  I  answer,  that  the  mean  between  all  ex¬ 
tremes,  is  Christianity,  as  given  in  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment.  An  attention  to  the  exhibition  of  Christ’s 
religion,  as  taught,  by  himself ,  as  exemplified,  in 
the  acts  of  the  apostles  ;  and  as  expanded  and  ra¬ 
mified,  in  the  epistles,  particularly  of  Saint  Paul,  . . 
is  the  best,  and  only  preservative,  against  coldness, 
against  fanaticism,  and  against  superstition.  But, 
let  me  tell  you,  that  this  simple,  direct  view  of 
Christianity,  has  very  seldom  been  taken.  Most 
men,  in  all  ages,  have  sat  down  to  the  gospel,  with  a 
set  of  prejudices,  which,  like  so  many  inquisitors, 
have  laid  the  Christian  religion  on  a  bed  like  that  of 
Procrustes  j  and,  as  it  suited  them,  either  mutilated 
it  by  violence,  or  extended  it  by  force. 

I  agree,  however,  with  Mrs.  Chapone,  in  her  inge¬ 
nious  essay  on  the  subject,  that  coldness  is  a  far 
more  dangerous  extreme,  than  over-much  heat.  The 
one,  may  consist  with  real  goodness :  nay,  may  be 
the  consequence  of  real  goodness,  commixing  with  a 
perturbed  imagination,  or  an  ill- formed  judgement. 
But  coldness  can  be  resolved,  only,  into  an  absolute 
want  of  feeling.  Enthusiasm  is  excess,  but  coldness 
is  want  of  vitality.  The  enthusiast,  in  a  moral  view, 
is  insane  ;  which  implies  the  possibility  of  recovery, 
and,  perhaps,  a  partial  or  occasional  recurrence  of 
reason.  The  cold  person  is  like  the  idiot,  where 
reason  never  shows  itself,  and  where  convalescence 
is  desperate. 

But,  let  it  ever  be  remembered,  that  he  who  has 
really  found  the  mean,  between  the  two  extremes, 
will,  and  must,  be  reckoned  enthusiastic,  by  those 
who  are  in  the  extreme  of  coldness.  You  can  easily 
conceive,  that,  when  any  one  stands  on  a  middle 
point,  between  two  others,  who  are,  with  respect  to 


17 


him,  strictly  equidistant,  he  must,  from  the  inevitable 
laws  of  perspective,  appear  to  both,  not  to  be  in  the 
middle,  but  comparatively  near  the  opposite  party. 
He  therefore, 

Auream  quisquis  mediocritatem 
Diligit, 

must  make  up  his  mind,  to  be  censured  on  both 
sides :  by  the  enthusiast,  as  cold ;  by  those  who  are 
really  cold,  as  an  enthusiast. 

This,  however,  is  a  digression.  I  return  to  the 
New-Testament  view  of  Christianity. 

Now  this,  I  repeat,  (for  the  reasons  above  given,) 
is  most  surely,  to  be  sought,  in  the  New  Testament 
itself.  And  the  representation  given  of  Christianity 
there,  differs,  in  my  mind,  from  that  given,  in  most 
pulpits,  in  very  many,  and  very  important  instances. 
I  shall  notice  two  instances  particularly :  .  . 

I.  Christianity  is  represented,  in  most  pulpits,  rather 
as  a  scheme  of  external  conduct,  than  as  an  inward 
principle  of  moral  happiness,  and  moral  rectitude. 

In  modern  sermons,  you  get  a  great  many  ad¬ 
monitions  and  directions,  as  to  right  conduct :  but, 
what  David  asked  for  so  earnestly,  is  seldom  touched 
upon,  .  .  ‘  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  God ! 
and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me.’  Now,  the 
New  Testament  dwells  on  this,  as  its  main  object : 
‘make  the  tree  good,5  says  Christ,  ‘and  its  fruit 
will,  also,  be  good’  .  .  ‘Except  ye  be  converted, 
and  become  as  little  children,  you  can,  in  no  wise, 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven/ 

These  expressions  evidently  imply,  that,  in  order 
to  be  Christians,  persons  must  undergo  a  moral 
change ;  that  Christianity  is  designed  to  make  them 
something,  which  they  are  not  by  nature ;  and  that 
the  alteration  produced,  in  the  mind,  the  affections, 

VOL.  I.  C 


18 


and  the  conduct,  by  a  right,  and  full,  acquiescence 
in  the  Gospel,  is  so  radical,  so  striking,  and  so  effica¬ 
cious,  as  to  warrant  the  strongest  imagery,  in  order 
to  do  it  justice,  that  language  can  furnish. 

‘  Except  a  man,’  says  our  Lord,  ‘  be  born  again, 
he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God.’ .  .  ‘If  any 

man,’  says  St.  Paul,  ‘be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new 

creature :  old  things  are  passed  away ;  behold  all 
things  are  become  new.’  .  .  ‘  If  ye,  then,  be  risen 
with  Christ,  seek  those  things  which  are  above :  for 
ye  are  dead,  and  your  life  is  hid,  with  Christ  in 
God.’  .  .  ‘  Being  justified  by  faith,  we  have  peace 
with  God,  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  for  the  love  of 
God  is  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts,  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 
which  is  given  unto  us/  And,  to  quote  but  one 

passage  more,  from  St.  Paul,  .  .  ‘  They  that  are 

Christ’s,  have  crucified  the  flesh,  with  the  affec¬ 
tions  and  desires.’ 

Now,  what,  I  ask,  do  these  expressions  imply? 
After  every  fair  allowance  for  figure,  and  metaphor, 
do  they  not  convey  a  far  deeper,  and  more  mysteri¬ 
ous  view  of  Christianity,  than  is,  commonly,  adverted 
to?  Some  divines,  I  know,  endeavour  to  explain 
these,  and  similar  passages,  as  if  they  referred,  rather 
to  a  relative  and  extrinsic,  than  to  a  real  and  internal 
change ;  as  if  they  meant,  merely,  proselytism  from 
heathenism  to  Christianity,  and  initiation  into  out¬ 
ward  church  privileges.  But  this  miserable  mode  of 
interpretation,  is  flatly  inconsistent  with  the  whole 
tenor  of  the  New  Testament.  It  is  not  heathenism, 
but  moral  evil,  which  is  here  pointed  out,  as  the 
grand  source  of  human  misery :  and  the  aptitude  of 
the  gospel,  to  overcome  and  extirpate  this  moral 
evil,  is  what  is  dwelt  upon,  as  its  great,  and  leading 
excellence.  These,  therefore,  and  all  similar  pas- 


19 


sages,  must  be  understood  in  a  moral  sense  :  and, 
when  so  understood,  how  deep  is  their  import !  To 
suppose  that  there  is  not  a  strict  appositeness,  in 
these  figurative  expressions,  would  be  to  accuse  the 
apostles,,  and  Christ  himself,  of  bombastic  amplifica¬ 
tion  :  but,  if  they  have  been  thus  applied,  because  no 
other  ones  were  adequate  to  do  justice  to  the  sub¬ 
ject,  I  say  again,  what  a  view  do  they  give  of 
Christianity ! 

It  may  be  said,  that  enthusiasts  have  abused  these 
expressions.  True  :  but  what  then  ?  What  gift  of 
God,  has  not  been  abused  ?  And  the  richest  gifts 
most  grossly  ?  Meanwhile,  the  Scriptures  remain 
unadulterated  ;  and,  abused  as  they  may  have  been,  by 
perverse  misrepresentation,  on  the  one  side,  or  on  the 
other,  we  have  no  right  to  go  to  any  other  standard. 

With  these  passages  of  Scripture,  then,  and  many 
similar  ones,  . .  nay,  with  the  whole  tenor  of  the  New 
Testament,  in  my  view,  I  hesitate  not  to  say,  that 
Christian  preaching  consists,  first,  in  representing 
man  to  be,  by  nature,  (I  mean  in  his  present  fallen 
state,)  a  weak,  ignorant,  sinful,  and,  of  course, 
miserable  being ;  as  such,  to  be  liable  to  God’s  dis¬ 
pleasure  ;  and  to  be  absolutely  incapable  of  enjoying 
any  real  happiness,  either  here  or  hereafter.  The 
passages  of  Scripture  which  prove  this,  are  innumer¬ 
able  :  I  shall  give  but  a  few.  ‘  You  hath  he  quick¬ 
ened,  who  were  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins.  The 
carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God.  The  carnal  man 
knoweth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  neither 
can  he  know  them ;  because  they  are  spiritually 
discerned.  They  that  are  in  the  flesh,  cannot  please 
God.  Having  the  understanding  darkened ;  being 
alienated  from  the  life  of  God.’ 

Nor,  are  we  to  suppose,  that  these  texts  speak 

c  2 


20 


only,  of  the  grossly  wicked.  St.  Paul  repeatedly 
explains  such  statements,  to  belong  to  all  mankind, 
until  they  are  brought  to  repentance,  and  are  in¬ 
wardly,  as  well  as  outwardly,  changed  by  divine  grace. 
And,  in  fact,  our  own  experience  confirms  the  truth 
of  this.  For,  if  we  look  around  us,  whom  do  we  see, 
either  truly  good,  or  truly  happy  ?  Some  there  are, 
unquestionably ;  though,  too  generally,  in  a  very 
low,  and  imperfect  degree.  But,  how  rarely  do  we  dis¬ 
cover,  what  St.  Paul  calls,  ‘the  fruit  of  the  spirit, 

.  .  .  love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness,  good¬ 
ness,  faith,  meekness,  temperance.’  Yet,  surely,  the 
possession  of  these  tempers,  is  just  as  essential  to 
Christianity  now,  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  St.  Paul : 
now,  as  well  as  then,  it  is  an  immutable  truth,  that, 

‘  If  any  man  have  not  the  spirit  of  Christ,  he  is 
none  of  his.’ 

To  shew,  then,  strongly,  and  feelingly,  the  misery, 
not  only  of  sinful  actions,  but,  of  that  carnal,  worldly, 
indevout,  unfeeling  state  of  mind,  in  which,  most 
men  are  content  to  live ;  and  to  point  out  the  ab¬ 
solute  necessity,  of  a  change  from  that  state,  into  an 
humble,  watchful,  spiritual,  devout,  filial  frame  of 
mind,  is,  in  my  opinion,  the  very  foundation  of  all 
Christian  preaching ;  as  it  is,  in  truth,  the  key-stone 
of  Christianity. 

The  very  word  for  repentance,  points  out  the 
reality,  and  depth  of  this  change ;  [xsravoia ,  a  trans¬ 
formation  of  mind .  And  our  Lord’s  words  to  St. 
Paul,  clearly  explain  wherein  that  change,  that 
[ASTOLVoia.  consists :  ‘  To  open  their  eyes ;  to  turn 
them  from  darkness,  to  light ;  and  from  the  power  of 
Satan,  unto  God :’  that  is,  to  enlighten  them,  with 
a  divine  and  saving  knowledge,  of  what  is  true,  and 
good  ;  to  fill  their  hearts,  with  the  Jove  of  it;  and  to 


n 


furnish  them  with  the  power,  to  perform  it.  The 
blessings  consequent  upon  this  change,  immediately 
follow  :  4  That  they  may  receive  forgiveness  of  sins  ; 
and  an  inheritance  among  them  that  are  sanctified  ; 
through  faith,  that  is  in  me/ 

Christianity,  then,  in  this  view,  is  really  what  St. 
Paul  calls  it, .  .  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation. 
When  thus  pursued,  .  .  I  mean,  when  a  deep  sense  of 
inward  depravity  and  weakness  excites  a  man,  to  seek 
divine  knowledge,  and  divine  grace,  in  order  to  the 
enlightening  of  his  mind,  and  the  renewing  of  his 
heart, .  .  when  this  view  produces  conscientious  watch¬ 
fulness  ;  excites  to  fervent,  habitual  devotion  ;  and 
presents  to  the  mind,  in  a  new  light,  God’s  inestima¬ 
ble  love,  in  the  redemption  of  the  world  by  his  Son, 
.  .  then,  by  degrees,  sometimes  more  rapidly,  some¬ 
times  more  slowly,  the  true  Christian  character 
begins  to  form  itself  in  the  mind.  Then,  the  great 
things  spoken  of  Christianity,  in  the  New  Testament, 
begin  to  be  understood,  because  they  begin  to  be 
felt.  The  vanity  of  earthly  things,  becomes  more 
and  more  apparent :  that  divine  faith  which  gives 
victory  over  the  world,  begins  to  operate  :  religious 
duties,  once  burthensome,  become  delightful :  self- 
government,  becomes  natural  and  easy :  reverential 
love  to  God,  and  gratitude  to  the  Redeemer,  pro¬ 
ducing  humility,  meekness,  active,  unbounded  bene¬ 
volence,  grow  into  habitual  principles  ;  private  prayer 
is  cultivated,  not  merely  as  a  duty,  but,  as  the  most 
delightful  exercise  of  the  mind :  cheerfulness  reigns 
within,  and  diffuses  its  sweet  influence,  over  the 
whole  conversation,  and  conduct :  all  the  innocent,  na¬ 
tural  enjoyments  of  life,  (scarcely,  perhaps,  tasted 
before,  from  the  natural  relish  of  the  mind  being 
blunted  bv  artificial  pleasures,)  become  inexhaustible 

c  3 


sources  of  comfort :  and  the  close  of  life  is  contem¬ 
plated  as  the  end  of  all  pain,  and  the  commencement 
of  perfect,  everlasting  felicity. 

This,  then,  I  conceive,  is  a  faint  sketch,  of  that 
state  of  mind,  to  which,  the  Christian  preacher,  should 
labour  to  bring  himself  and  his  hearers.  This,  I  take 
to  be,  ‘true  religion;’  our  Saviour’s,  ‘well  of  water, 
springing  up  into  everlasting  life ;’  St.  Paul’s,  ‘  new 
creature,’  and  ‘  spiritual  mind  ;’  and  St.  John’s, 
‘fellowship  with  the  Father,  and  with  his  Son,  Jesus 
Christ.’ 

These  points,  therefore,  I  take  to  be  the  great 
features  of  Christian  preaching : . . 

1.  The  danger  and  misery  of  an  unrenewed,  un¬ 
regenerate  state  ;  whether  it  be  of  the  more  gross,  or 
of  the  more  decent  kind. 

<2.  The  absolute  necessity  of  an  inward  change  :  a 
moral  transformation  of  mind  and  spirit. 

3.  The  important  and  happy  effects  which  take 
place,  when  this  change  is  really  produced. 

But,  how  little  justice  have  I  done  the  subject ! 
what  a  meagre  outline  have  1  given  you !  But,  if  it 
sets  you  on  thinking  for  yourself,  and  leads  you,  like 
the  Bereans,  to  search  the  Scriptures,  ‘  whether  these 
things  be  so,’  it  is  the  utmost  I  can  look  for. 

I  know  not  any  place,  in  which,  the  view  of  prac¬ 
tical  Christianity  I  have  been  giving,  is,  either  so 
clearly,  or  so  compendiously  set  forth,  as,  in  that  col¬ 
lect  of  the  afternoon  service,  ‘  O  God,  from  whom 
all  holy  desires,  &c.’  It  seems  as  if  that  prayer 
were  peculiarly  fitted  for  those,  who  feel  in  them¬ 
selves  the  marks  of  sincere  repentance  ;  but  whose 
change,  from  the  influence  of  the  carnal  mind,  to 
that  of  the  spiritual  mind,  is  not  yet  completed.  It, 
therefore,  begins  with  a  scriptural  enumeration  of  the 


component  parts,  and  effects,  of  true  repentance  ;  and 
an  ascription  of  these  to  the  God  of  grace,  as  their 
only  source.  ‘  Holy  desires,’  answer  to  St.  Paul’s 
‘  opening  of  the  eyes;’  ‘good  counsels,’  or  resolu¬ 
tions,  to  the  ‘  turning  from  darkness,  unto  light ;’  and 
‘  just  works,’  are  the  certain  consequences,  of  being 
brought  ‘  from  the  power  of  Satan,  unto  God.’  St. 
Paul  was  directed,  to  inculcate  this  [Aeravoict ,  in  order 
to  the  receiving  of  ‘  remission  of  sins,  and  an  inherit¬ 
ance  among  them  that  are  sanctified’ :  and,  on  exactly 
the  same  principle,  this  admirable  collect  directs  the 
penitent  to  ask  from  God,  ‘  that  peace,  which  the 
world  cannot  give.’  This  is  what  the  true  penitent 
looks  for ;  and  it  embraces,  in  the  largest  sense  of 
the  word,  both  the  blessings,  which  the  Apostle 
speaks  of:  ‘remission  of  sins,’  that  is,  well-grounded 
peace  in  the  conscience  ;  and  ‘  an  inheritance  among 
them  that  are  sanctified,’  that  is,  the  blessed  peace  of 
a  pure,  holy,  benevolent,  pious  mind  ;  living,  by  faith, 
above  the  world ;  and  having  its  conversation  (its 
7roXiT£V[xotf  citizenship ,  Phil.  iii.  20.)  in  heaven. 
Both  these,  are  contained  in  the  nature  of  that  ‘  peace 
of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding  ;’  and  its 
effects  are  beautifully  expanded,  in  the  words  which 
immediately  follow :  ‘  that,  both  our  hearts  may  be 
set  to  obey  thy  commandments,  and  also,  that,  by 
thee,  we,  being  defended  from  the  fear  of  our 
enemies,  may  pass  our  time  in  rest  and  quietness, 
through  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ  our  Saviour.’ 
This  determinateness  of  heart, .  .  as,  by  a  second 
nature,  more  fixed,  even,  than  the  first,  . .  to  keep 
God’s  commandments,  and  the  consequent  freedom 
from  all  fear,  external  and  internal,  being  the  per¬ 
fection  of  Christianity.  And  see,  how  scriptural  all 
this  is  :  . . 6  The  work  of  righteousness,  shall  be 

c  4 


peace  :  and  the  effect  of  righteousness,’  (its  less  imme¬ 
diate,  but  not  less  certain,  consequence,)  4  quietness 
and  assurance  for  ever.’  Zacharias,  in  his  hymn, 
states  it  to  be,  the  very  matter,  and  substance  of  the 
mercy  promised  to  the  fathers, .  . 4  That  we,  being 
delivered  out  of  the  hand  of  our  enemies,  might 
serve  him  without  fear,  in  holiness  and  righteousness 
before  him,  all  the  days  of  our  life.’  And  St.  John 
expressly  says,  *  Perfect  love  casteth  out  fear ;  for 
he  that  feareth,  is  not  made  perfect  in  love.’  Now, 
only  compare  this  collect,  with  my  statement  above, 
and  say,  whether  they  do  not  suggest  the  identical 
same  view  of  Christianity. 

Let  me  observe,  however,  that  the  change  I  speak 
of,  must,  from  variety  of  circumstances,  vary  in  con¬ 
spicuousness.  Some,  have  pleased  God  from  their 
youth  ;  have  never  lost  a  sense  of  duty  :  in  these,  of 
course,  there  cannot,  in  the  nature  of  things,  be  that 
deep  compunction,  which  penitents  feel,  who  have  been 
rescued  from  a  lower  depth.  Nay,  some  even,  are 
gently,  and  gradually  reclaimed,  from  a  course  of  vice, 
and  folly ;  so  that,  their  final  safety,  may  be  the  re¬ 
sult  of  an  almost  imperceptible  advance,  through  many 
years.  But  the  change  itself  from  the  dominion  of 
the  carnal  mind,  to  that  of  the  spiritual  mind,  must 
be  wrought  :  because,  4  If  ye  live  after  the  flesh,  ye 
shall  die ;  but,  if  ye,  through  the  spirit,  mortify  the 
deeds  of  the  body,  ye  shall  live.’  To  insist,  there¬ 
fore,  on  the  change  itself:  to  lead  men  into  their 
own  bosoms,  to  inquire,  what  most  prevails  with 
them  ;  this  world,  or  the  next :  to  ascertain,  what 
spirit  they  are  of ;  of  the  self-denying  spirit  of 
Christ,  or  the  self-indulging  spirit  of  the  world  :  to 
ask,  whether,  like  David,  they  love  God’s  law ;  or 
whether  their  obedience  is  the  result  of  servile  fear  ; 


25 


to  examine,  whether  they  have  any  sense  of  ‘  God’s 
inestimable  love,  in  the  redemption  of  the  world,  by 
his  Son  or  whether  they  are  conscious,  that  they 
would  have  been  just  as  happy,  if  such  a  thing 
never  had  taken  place  :  to  seek,  finally,  whether  they 
feel  the  need  of  the  aid  and  consolations  of  God’s 

0 

Spirit;  and,  therefore,  find  prayer  as  necessary  to 
their  mental  comfort,  as  food  is,  to  their  bodily 
strength  :  . .  to  urge  such  inquiries,  I  take  to  be 
Christian  preaching  ;  to  insist  on  circumstances,  .  . 
such  as,  a  moment  of  conversion,  known  and  remem¬ 
bered  ;  certain  depths  of  distress  ;  strongly  marked, 
instantaneous  consolations,  .  .  as  if  these  had  been 
necessary ,  I  humbly  conceive  to  be  enthusiasm. 

I  have  now  said  enough,  of  the  Jirst  error  in 
preaching:  that  of  making  Christianity  to  consist, 
rather  in  outward  performances,  than  in  an  inward 
change. 

II.  The  second  error,  according  to  my  apprehen¬ 
sion,  is,  that  preachers  exhort  men  to  do ,  without 
impressing  on  them  a  sense  of  their  natural  inability, 
to  do  any  thing  that  is  right ;  and  their  consequent 
need  of  divine  grace  :  first,  to  create  them  anew  unto 
good  works ;  and,  then,  to  strengthen  them,  by  daily 
and  hourly  assistance. 

Our  blessed  Saviour  begins  his  sermon  on  the 
mount,  by  pronouncing,  not  certain  actions,  but 
certain  dispositions  happy ;  to  shew,  that,  right  dis¬ 
positions  are  the  only  source,  whence  right  actions 
can  proceed.  And,  in  order  to  the  attainment  of 
those  right  tempers,  he  directs  to  earnest  prayer,  for 
God’s  holy  Spirit ;  with  this  encouragement,  .  .  «  If 
ye,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your 
children,  how  much  more,  will  your  Father,  who  is 
in  heaven,  give  his  holy  Spirit,  to  them  that  ask  him.’ 


26 


But,  the  second  error,  is,  in  fact,  the  natural  con¬ 
sequence  of  the  first.  For,  where  an  inward,  spiritual 
principle,  is  not  insisted  on,  as  primarily,  and  essen¬ 
tially,  requisite  in  religion,  there,  the  whole  system 
must  be  vague,  extrinsic,  and  superficial. 

It  is  remarkable,  but,  I  believe,  it  will  be  found  a 
fact,  that  the  meditations  of  Marcus  Antoninus  con¬ 
tain  a  much  stricter  plan  of  moral  self-government, 
than  is  set  forth,  by  most  modern  Christian  preachers. 
He  seems  to  have  looked,  much  more  to  the  state  of 
his  mind  and  temper,  than  the  generality  of  pulpit 
instruction  insists  upon.  And  certainly,  Cicero’s 
beautiful  picture  of  a  virtuous  man,  (de  Legib.  lib.  1. 
ad  fin.)  comes  nearer  the  New  Testament,  than  the 
view  taken,  by  the  far  greater  number  of  existing 
Christian  moralists.  But,  can  this  be  just,  and  right  ? 
If  Christianity  amounts  to  no  more,  than  a  heathen 
moralist  could,  by  philosophic  discipline,  attain  to, 
we  may  well  ask,  to  what  purpose  did  the  Son  of 
God  take  our  nature  upon  him  ?  Why  did  he  suffer 
death  upon  the  cross  ? 

To  some,  I  doubt  not,  this  whole  scheme  would 
appear  enthusiastic,  and  be  set  down  as  rank  metho- 
dism.  If  so,  I  can  only  say,  it  is  such  methodism, 
as  was  taught  by  the  great  divines  of  our  church, 
from  the  reformation,  until  the  latter  end  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  Then,  some  of  the  most  popular 
divines,  took  up  a  mode  of  moral  preaching,  which 
they  seemed  to  have  learned  from  Episcopius,  and  the 
other  Dutch  remonstrants ;  and  to  which,  Tillotson’s 
over-disgust  at  his  own  puritanic  education,  very 
much  contributed.  This  mode  became  more  and 
more  general ;  until,  at  length,  little  other  was  to  be 
met  with. 

And  yet,  were  I  to  point  out  authors,  whose  works, 
as  most  nearly  agreeing  with  the  views  given  above, 


2? 


I  am  most  disposed  to  recommend  to  you,  as  part  of 
your  first  studies,  I  should  name  some  of  that  very  pe¬ 
riod,  the  latter  end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Two 
laymen  of  that  time,  may  be  set  down,  as,  in  their 
lives,  among  the  brightest  examples  of  Christianity, 
that  ever  the  church  afforded  :  I  mean  Judge  Hale, 
and  Robert  Boyle.  The  life  of  the  former,  by 
Bishop  Burnet,  ought  to  be  in  every  one’s  hands. 
But  his  *  Contemplations  on  moral  and  religious  sub¬ 
jects’,  is  the  work  I  particularly  refer  to  :  wonderfully 
plain  and  simple  ;  but  exquisitely  Christian.  There 
is  a  work,  also,  of  that  time,  which  contains,  perhaps, 
the  finest  view  of  practical  religion,  the  most  removed, 
from  coldness,  on  the  one  hand,  and  over-heat,  on  the 
other,  that  is  to  be  found  in  the  Christian  world,  .  . 
Scougal’s  life  of  God,  in  the  soul  of  man.  The  author 
was  a  Scotch  episcopal  clergyman  ;  and  died  at  a  very 
early  age.  This,  every  Christian  ought  to  have,  as  a 
sort  of  manual. 

Another  composition  of  that  day,  I  would  earnestly 
recommend  to  your  perusal ;  Bishop  Burnet’s  con¬ 
clusion  of  his  own  life  and  times.  It,  also,  contains, 
in  a  small  compass,  as  fine  a  view  of  practical 
Christianity,  as  almost  ever  was  composed. 

Burnet,  both  in  his  Pastoral  Care,  and  in  his  own 
Life  and  Times,  speaks  much  about,  and  bestows  the 
highest  encomiums  upon,  Archbishop  Leighton.  He 
was  a  pattern  of  Christian  perfection.  His  writings 
bear  a  close  resemblance  to  early  English  divinity  : 
but,  in  sublime  piety,  and  often  in  genuine  strokes  of 
natural,  but  most  exalted  eloquence,  they  are  not 
excelled,  but  by  the  sacred  writers. 

Lucas’s  inquiry  after  happiness,  especially  his 
second  volume,  is,  peculiarly,  of  that  kind,  which 
avoids  both  coldness  and  enthusiasm.  And  to  these, 
I  would  add  Dr.  Worthington’s  book  on  self- resignation. 


^8 


Burnet’s  life  of  Bishop  Bedel  ;  his  account  of 
Lord  Rochester ;  and  his  funeral  sermon  for  Mr.  Boyle, 

.  .  deserve,  also,  to  be  placed  in  the  highest  rank.  I 
wish  much,  that  all  Burnet’s  lives,  including  the 
sermon,  were  to  be  republished  in  Ireland  ;  except 
his  large  one  of  Bishop  Bedel,  which  is  easily  come 
at,  and  peculiarly  worth  having. 

Burnet’s  most  interesting  anecdotes  of  Archbishop 
Leighton,  given  in  his  own  Life  and  Times,  should, 
also,  be  extracted,  and  introduced  into  such  a  volume. 

Archbishop  Leighton,  however,  on  second  thoughts, 
I  do  not  recommend  to  you,  as  just  for  your  purpose 
now :  because  I  wish  to  mention  those,  only,  who 
completely  occupy  that  middle  place  you  speak  of; 
and  on  whom,  of  course,  you  may  safely  rely.  But 
Leighton  had  a  leaning  to  Calvinism  :  which  places 
him  in  a  different  class.  Hereafter,  when  your 
theological  knowledge  is  somewhat  more  advanced, 
and  you  are  able  to  exercise  the  eclectic  faculty,  he 
ought  to  make  a  part  of  your  library  :  for,  a  more 
apostolic  man  never  lived  ;  and  his  genius  was  not 
only  vivid,  but  sublime.  In  the  far  greater  part  of 
his  works,  he  really  deserves  to  stand  very  near  the 
inspired  writers. 

But  there  are  two  authors,  whom  I  would  certainly 
wish  to  occupy  a  place  in  your  earliest  course.  One, 
more  ancient,  whom,  I  fear,  it  may  not  be  easy  to 
come  at,  in  Ireland.  The  other,  modern. 

The  ancient  one  lies,  at  this  moment,  before  me  : 
it  is  entitled,  e  Select  discourses  by  John  Smith,  late 
fellow  of  queen’s  college,  Cambridge  :’  a  quarto,  of 
the  smaller  size,  printed  at  Cambridge,  in  the  year 
1660.  His  editor  was  the  Dr.  Worthington,  already 
mentioned.  Of  this  volume,  all  is  learned,  liberal, 
ingenious,  and  eminently  pious  :  but  the  latter  part  is 


29 


the  most  interesting,  4  A  discourse  of  legal  and 
evangelical  righteousness,  &c.’,  and  all  those  that 
follow,  to  the  end.  The  first  short  treatise  in  the 
volume,  however,  on  the  true  method  of  attaining 
divine  knowledge,  ought,  by  no  means,  to  be  passed 
over. 

The  other,  the  wise  and  excellent  Doddridge,  was 
a  man,  who,  though  a  dissenter  from  our  church, 
would  have  done  any  church  the  highest  honour. 
Pure  conscience  kept  him  from  conforming  ;  his  early 
views  having  been  formed  on  another  plan :  though, 
there  can  be  little  doubt,  that,  in  our  establishment, 
his  transcendent  merits  would  have  raised  him  to  the 
highest  dignities.  He  is  not  exactly  of  the  description 
of  writers  I  have  been  mentioning  :  but  he  is,  indeed 
and  in  truth,  a  combination  of  all  excellencies. 
Scougal,  Burnet,  Lucas,  and  John  Smith,  excelled  in 
their  views  of  the  religion  of  the  heart,  as  embracing 
habitual  devotion,  internal  purity,  and  active  charity. 
In  these  respects,  they  are,  perhaps,  the  first  writers 
in  the  world.  But  the  excesses  of  some  of  the 
puritanical  men  of  that  age,  led  them  to  be  much  on 
the  reserve,  as  to  some  of  the  peculiar  doctrines  of 
Christianity.  On  what  concerns  the  Christian  [xaroLvoia, 
and  its  most  precious  fruits,  they  are  unrivalled: 
respecting  the  Christian  7 tkttis,  its  nature,  and  its  ex¬ 
ercise,  they  are  perhaps  somewhat  deficient.  Who  is 
perfect  ? 

Our  Saviour  says,  ‘Ye  believe  in  God;  believe,  also, 
in  Me.’  The  former  duty,  they  well  understood,  and 
nobly  inculcated,  from  well-experienced  hearts :  the 
latter,  they  themselves  professed  and  practised  ;  but 
not  with  equal  clearness.  Here,  the  calvinistic  puri¬ 
tans  have  been  somewhat  wild  ;  and  their  wildness, 
perhaps,  occasioned  over-caution,  in  these  excellent 
men.  But  Doddridge  is  as  perfect  here,  as  in  every 


30 


other  respect.  Instead  of  shunning  puritanism,  to 
which  extreme,  some  of  his  connections  might  rather 
have  given  him  an  over-inclination,  he  extracts  all  its 
excellencies,  and  leaves  behind  all  its  feculence.  Never 
was  there  a  better-informed  divine,  a  more  judicious 
casuist,  or  a  more  evangelic  Christian.  His  theological 
lectures,  though  in  some  measure  deformed,  by  the 
strange  adoption  of  a  mathematical  form  in  demon¬ 
strating  his  propositions,  are  a  complete  body,  and  most 
candid  treasury,  both  of  theoretic,  and  practical  in¬ 
struction  ;  both  of  questionable  opinions,  and  of  un¬ 
questionable  truth.  His  Family  Expositor,  is,  in  most 
parts,  a  perfectly  sound,  fair,  pious,  and  rational  in¬ 
terpreter  of  the  New  Testament.  And  his  sermons  on 
regeneration,  are,  of  all  practical  works,  that  which, 
perhaps,  comes  nearest  what  you  mention  as  a  de¬ 
sideratum,  .  .  the  fulness  of  evangelical  truth,  without 
the  alloy  of  enthusiasm.  His  Rise  and  Progress  of 
Religion,  has  been  unusually  read,  and  approved.  It 
is  a  capital  work,  but,  I  think,  it  involves  this  defect, 
that  its  plan  almost  necessarily  leads  to  an  insisting  on 
one  mode  of  passing,  from  a  thoughtless,  to  a  religious 
life ;  and,  therefore,  seems  to  lay  stress  on  a  certain 
method,  where  both  reason  and  religion  would  seem 
to  point  out  an  infinite  variety.  From  this,  which, 
however,  he  meant,  as  much  as  possible,  to  guard 
against,  his  sermons  on  regeneration,  (which,  also,  he 
intended  as  a  kind  of  elementary  work  on  practical 
religion,)  are  admirably  free.* 

*  In  later  years,  I  have  good  reason  for  knowing,  that,  respecting  the  writings 
of  the  excellent  Doddridge,  Mr.  Knox’s  views  underwent  some  modification. 
He  would,  especially,  have  guarded  youthful  readers,  against,  what  he  was 
obliged  to  think,  educational  prejudices,  on  the  subject  of  church-government : 
and,  of  some  circumstantial  errors,  even  in  his  theology,  he  became  duly  sensible. 
But,  with  few  drawbacks,  (as  few,  perhaps,  as  often  fall  to  the  lot  of  humanity,) 
he  continued,  and  most  justly,  to  account  Doddridge  a  burning  and  a  shining 
light ;  which,  in  days  of  more  than  ordinary  coldness,  Divine  Providence 
was  pleased  to  enkindle,  in  order  to  impart  both  warmth,  and  illumination,  to 


31 


I  have  now,  my  good  friend,  nearly  executed  what 
I  intended  :  and  have  only  to  make  a  few  observa¬ 
tions,  to  prevent  any  possible  misconception  of  the 
plan  I  have  dwelt  upon. 

If  you  do  not,  many  would,  think  the  view  I  have 
given  of  religion,  as  implying  an  inward  change, 
and  an  habitual  devotion,  1.  too  strict :  2.  somewhat 
fanatical. 

1.  As  to  the  first  objection,  I  would  desire  any 
candid  person,  seriously  to  consider  our  Lord’s  view 
of  religion,  in  the  parable  of  the  sower ;  and  ask  his 
own  reason,  whether,  in  the  distinction  made,  between 
the  thorny-ground,  and  the  good-ground  hearers, 
there  is  not  an  awful  indication  of  the  strictness  of 
his  religion.  I  would  recommend  to  attention, 
also,  the  truths  suggested  in  the  parable  of  the  man 
who  came  into  the  marriage  feast,  not  having  on  a 
wedding  garment.  But,  above  all,  the  parable  of  the 
ten  virgins  :  this,  to  my  apprehension,  is  the  most 
awful  of  all  our  Lord’s  discourses.  Where,  it  may  be 
asked,  lay  the  difference  between  those  individuals? 
It  was  not  external :  they  were  all  called  virgins ; 
they  all  appeared  in  equal  readiness  ;  they  had  all  had 
their  lamps  burning ;  which  must  mean,  that  they  all 
maintained  an  equally  promising  character,  as  far  as 
human  eyes  could  go.  The  difference,  then,  is 
internal :  the  foolish,  had  oil  in  their  lamps,  for  the 
present ;  but  no  supply,  no  reservoir,  in  their  vessels. 
Can  this  mean  any  thing  short,  of  what  I  have  been 
stating  above  \  that  Christianity  implies,  (I  use  the 
words  of  Scougal,)  ‘  a  real  participation  of  the  divine 
nature ;  the  very  image  of  Christ,  drawn  upon  the 
soul ;  or,  as  it  is  in  the  Apostle’s  phrase,  Christ 

FORMED  WITHIN  US’? 


the  professing  Christian  world.  —  Bp.  Jebb’s  Introduction  to  Burnet's  Lives, 
editions  1832-1833,  note. 


I 


32 


2.  As  to  the  second  objection,  that  this  view  is 
somewhat  fanatical, ..  I  would  answer,  that  the  divines 
above  mentioned  are  deservedly  esteemed  among  the 
wisest,  and  most  rational,  in  our  church.  And,  so  far 
as  I  can  understand  them,  it  is  precisely  their  view. 
But,  there  is  another  divine,  whom  I  have  not  yet 
named,  and  to  whom  I  may  safely  appeal ;  the 
judicious  Hooker.  Turn  to  the  tracts,  at  the  end  of 
his  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  and  read  the  thirteenth  and 
fourteenth  sections  of  the  first  of  the  two  sermons,  on 
part  of  St.  Jude’s  epistle  ;  compare  what  he  there  says, 
with  my  statements,  and  see,  whether  he  does  not,  in 
using  language  bolder,  and  more  unqualified,  go 
beyond  my  view  of  the  question.  And  yet,  no  one 
ever  charged  Hooker  with  being  an  enthusiast,  or 
fanatic.  The  truth  is,  that  what  he  there  delivered, 
was  no  more,  than  what  was  daily  taught  in  the 
churches:  only,  Hooker  expresses  himself  in  stronger 
terms,  and  with  more  fiery  eloquence. 

I  hope  you  will  excuse  the  incoherencies,  and 
indigested  manner,  of  the  above.  Your  question 
appeared  to  me  a  weighty  one :  and  I  wished  to 
answer  it  as  well  as  I  could.  But  I  could  not  do  it, 
as  I  wished.  Besides,  I  have  been  obliged  to  do  it 
by  snatches,  when  bad  health,  and  bad  spirits,  per¬ 
mitted  me. 

It  is  now,  full  time  to  have  done  :  you  will  consider 
this  poor  attempt,  as,  at  least,  a  small  mark  of  the  real 
regard,  with  which  I  am, 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

Your  affectionate, 

And  faithful  friend, 
Alex.  Knox. 

Feb.  13.  1801. 

The  Rev.  John  Jebb, 

Swanlinbar,  Ballyconnel,  Ireland. 


LETTER  V. 


To  A.  Knox ,  Esq. 

Swanlinbar,  May  13.  180L 

My  dear  Sir, 

1  have  frequently  read  your  letter  on  Christian 
preaching;  and  each  reading  has,  more  decidedly 
than  the  preceding  one,  convinced  me,  that  your 
ideas  on  the  subject  are  perfectly  scriptural.  If  any 
were  to  deem  your  scheme  enthusiastic,  I  should  be 
inclined  to  think  them  cold;  and  I  should  be  happy 
in  preaching,  all  my  life,  such  methodism,  as  you  have 
furnished  me  with  a  specimen  of.  The  books,  for 
which  I  am  indebted  to  your  kindness  and  re  com 
mendation,  have  not  yet  reached  the  country.  When 
they  arrive,  I  shall  lose  no  time  in  having  recourse  to 
them.  They  are  such,  from  the  description  you  have 
given  of  them,  as  cannot  fail  to  be  highly  useful;  but 
I  must  fear  my  power  of  turning  them  to  good  account; 
however,  I  shall  make  some  efforts,  not  relying  on  my 
own  strength  ;  and  I  will  leave  the  event  in  his  hands, 
who,  alone,  is  able  to  order  things  for  the  good  of 
his  creatures. 

By  the  kindness  with  which  you  have  answered  my 
former  question,  you  have  subjected  yourself  to  the 
trouble  of  receiving  similar  applications  from  me. 
You  have  had  some  experience  of  applicants,  in  your 
official  capacity  ;  and,  I  dare  say,  that  experience 
proved  to  you,  that  success,  on  one  occasion,  seldom 
prevents  people  from  being  solicitous  a  second,  and  a 
third  time.  Such  is  the  case  with  me.  I  am  em¬ 
boldened  by  your  goodness,  to  trespass  on  it  still 
further. 


VOL.  i. 


D 


34 


I  hear,  that  you  read  to  the  Clerical  Society,  a 
paper  on  4  The  Treatment  of  Roman  Catholics .’  I 
should  be  more  than  commonly  gratified,  if  you  would 
favour  me  with  a  copy  of  it.  However,  I  beg,  if  it 
be  in  the  least  degree  troublesome  to  you,  that  you 
will  not  think  of  sending  it.  I  should  be  truly  sorry 
to  derive  advantage,  from  any  thing  irksome,  or  in¬ 
convenient  to  you. 

I  have  commenced  a  plan  of  giving  service,  in  the 
evening  of  Sunday  ;  which  concludes  with  a  kind  of 
expository  lecture,  on  a  portion  of  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment.  I  began  with  St.  Matthew’s  Gospel ;  and 
purpose  to  go  regularly  through  it.  The  attendance 
of  the  parishioners  is  very  respectable ;  never  less 
than  50  to  60.  From  never  having  heard  a  lecture  of 
the  kind,  I  am  sometimes  at  a  loss  to  know,  whether 
I  have  adopted  the  proper  plan.  If  any  ideas  on  the 
subject  of  lecturing  occur  to  you,  I  would  thankfully 
receive  them  ;  and  endeavour,  by  following  them  up, 
to  improve  myself  and  the  parish. 

On  the  treatment  of  Methodists,  you  gave  me  some 
useful  advice  in  Dublin.  They  form  so  considerable 
a  portion  of  my  flock,  that  I  wish  to  direct  much  of 
my  attention  to  them.  I  have  some  pleasure  in 
imagining,  that  most  of  them  are  inclined  to  attend 
to  me,  and  have  rather  a  favourable  opinion  of  me. 
One  preacher,  indeed,  I  have  been  well  informed,  en¬ 
deavoured  to  infuse  suspicions  of  me.  Of  this  I  shall, 
you  may  be  certain,  take  no  notice.  Other  of  their 
preachers,  I  have  been  informed,  recommend  attention 
to  what  I  preach,  &c.  &c.  I  wish,  indeed,  that  their 
meetings  did  not  interfere  with  the  hours  of  divine 
service ;  which  they  sometimes  do.  On  the  means 
of  effecting  a  change  in  their  time  of  meeting,  and  on 
any  other  particulars  respecting  them,  a  few  hints 


35 


from  you  would  be  extremely  serviceable  to  me. 
You  well  know  the  principles  and  feeling  of  the  sect ; 
and  could,  no  doubt,  point  out  the  gentlest,  and  the 
most  effectual  mode  of  dealing  with  them. 

I  have  written  this  day  to  Stopford,  and  requested 
that  he,  or  other  members  of  the  Clerical  Society, 
would  turn  their  minds  towards  investigating  the  best 
mode  of  instructing  Protestants,  who  cannot  read, 
and  are  completely  ignorant  of  the  principles  of 
Christianity.  He  will  tell  you  the  occasion  of  this 
request.  Probably,  your  friend  Mr.  Alcock,  from  his 
great  experience,  acquired  by  long  visiting  his  pa¬ 
rishioners,  could  draw  up  most  useful  ‘  Hints  for  re¬ 
ligious  conversation  with  the  uninstructed  poor.’ 

You  have,  I  suppose,  seen  Magee’s  book,  on  Atone¬ 
ment  and  Sacrifice.  It  evinces  astonishing  research  ; 
and  appears  to  me  full  of  most  excellent  argument. 

I  heard  of  the  purpose  to  which  you  applied  Orton’s 
letters.  There  could  not  be  a  better  one.  I  am 
much  obliged  by  your  sending  over  for  another  set. 

I  trust  this  fine  weather  has  been  beneficial  to  your 
health.  In  the  country,  every  thing  promises  well. 
Thank  God,  every  thing  here  is  plentiful  ;  and  there 
is  a  geater  prospect  of  an  increase  of  harvest,  than 
has  been  recollected  for  many  years.  Providence 
orders  all  things  wisely :  the  scarcity  of  two  years, 
has  been  the  means  of  creating  a  foresight,  and  in¬ 
dustry,  and  economy,  hitherto  unknown ;  probably, 
these  may  ripen  into  a  habit. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 

Your  most  obliged  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


D  cl 


LETTER  VI. 


To  A.  Knox ,  Esq. 

Kilmore  House,  Nov.  26.  1801. 

My  dear  Sir, 

The  Bishop  of  Kilmore  tells  me,  that  he  has  in¬ 
formed  you  of  the  option  he  has  given  me,  of  remain¬ 
ing  at  Swanl inbar,  or  removing  to  Cashel.  He  spoke 
to  me  this  day  of  his  intentions,  in  that  open,  kind, 
and  delicate  manner,  which  might  be  expected  from 
such  a  man.  You,  most  probably,  know,  better  than 
I  can  know,  what  might  be  expected,  from  his  re¬ 
commending  me  in  the  strongest  manner  to  Bishop 

- ;  but,  I  confess,  that,  from  various  reasons, 

and,  not  least  among  them,  from  a  wish  to  be  under 
the  good  man,  from  whom,  during  more  than  two 
years,  I  have  experienced  nothing  but  kindness,  I 
should  prefer  removing  to  Cashel. 

By  your  advice  and  opinion,  in  conjunction  with 
that  of  my  brother,  I  shall  be  decided.  This  only  I 
would  say,  that,  if  an  introduction  to  any  Bishop  I 
know,  were  to  place  me  immediately  in  a  comfortable 
living,  on  condition  of  my  giving  up  all  prospect  of 
getting  into  the  Bishop  of  Kilmore’s  (Brodrick’s) 
diocese,  at  some  future  period,  I  should  feel  a  very 
strong  inclination  to  refuse  it. 

I  have  just  written  to  my  brother,  and  desired  him 
to  call  on  you.  I  am  sure  that  you,  who  had  the 
goodness  to  establish  me  in  my  profession,  will  grant 
me  the  additional  favour  of  your  advice,  in  this  case. 

I  should  long  since  have  written  to  you,  on  other 
matters,  had  I  not  feared  that  my  letters  might  be 
troublesome.  If  I  could  be  certain  that  the  fact 


cyr^f 

were  not  so,  I  should  sometimes  do  myself  the  real 
pleasure  of  writing  to  you  ;  and  be  amply  satisfied  by 
hearing  from  you  only  when  perfectly  convenient, 
should  it  be  but  once  a  year. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  most  obliged,  and  most  faithful  servant, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  3. 

Feb.  2.  1802. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  should  sooner  have  acknowledged  your  very  ac¬ 
ceptable  letter,  if  X  had  not  been,  both  particularly 
engaged  in,  and  indisposed  for,  writing.  Both  the 
same  obstacles,  too  much  continue ;  but  I  cannot 
longer  defer  saying  something  to  you. 

I  yesterday  dined  with  our  archbishop.  I  mentioned 
to  his  Grace  your  having  asked  my  opinion  about 
your  course  of  lectures ;  and  he  expressed  his  wish, 
that  you  should  particularly  apply  yourself,  to  the 
preparing  youth  for  confirmation :  and  gave,  I 
thought,  as  a  reason,  his  purpose  of  setting  you  on 
that  employment,  when  you  should  go  to  Cashel.  I 
answered,  that  both  were  very  compatible  ;  that  I  did 
not  question  the  importance  of  what  he  mentioned, 
but  that  I  consider  the  lectures,  also,  as  of  peculiar 
moment ;  and,  therefore,  could  not  help  hoping  you 
would  persevere  in  your  design.  He  seemed  not 
disposed  to  differ  from  me  :  though  I  am  not  sure,  that 
he  has  yet  before  his  mind,  all  the  motives,  for  culti¬ 
vating  that  particular  mode  of  instruction.  1  think, 
that,  if  he  saw  it  in  the  light,  in  which,  if  I  live,  X  will 
endeavour  to  place  it  to  him,  he  will  be  more  decidedly 
attached  to  it.  And  the  epitome  of  these  reasons  is 
VOL.  i.  *  d  3 


38 


simply  this,  .  .  that  this,  alone,  is  preaching  the  word 
of  God .  This  is  bringing  the  Scriptures  forward, 
into  the  light  of  day ;  while  the  common  mode  of 
preaching,  is  but  a  statement  of  human  sentiments. 

I  soberly  think,  that,  in  the  Scriptures  themselves, 
there  is  a  clearness,  a  directness,  an  energy,  a  conge¬ 
niality,  with  all  that  is  honest,  good,  and  wise,  in 
the  human  heart  5  which  places  them  infinitely  above 
every  thing  else  in  the  world.  But  these  qualities  do 
not  show  themselves,  to  the  superficial  reader,  or 
hearer.  They  are  too  genuine,  to  be  ostentatious. 
They  are,  also,  perhaps,  so  disposed,  as  to  require 
that  attention  to  discover  them,  which  tends  to  fit 
the  mind  for  valuing  them  when  found.  The  trea¬ 
sure  was  hid  in  a  field ;  but  in  fact,  ‘  Pater  ipse  haud 
facilem  esse  viam  voluit,’  applies  almost  to  every 
thing  promotive  of  human  improvement :  which  say¬ 
ing  of  Virgil’s,  is  astonishingly  correspondent  with 
that  in  Genesis,  ‘  In  the  sweat  of  thy  face,  shalt  thou 
eat  bread.’  In  order,  therefore,  to  bring  the  energies 
of  the  Scriptures  into  action,  there  must  be  labour  of 
some  ;  there  must  be  study.  But  the  inability  of  the 
people,  in  general,  to  do  this  for  themselves,  is  the 
very  foundation  of  the  clerical  office.  How,  then, 
can  this  office  be  so  well  fulfilled,  as  in  developing 
these  concealed  excellencies?  How  can  the  time, 
allotted  for  public  instruction,  be  so  happily  employed, 
as  in  opening  the  very  words,  and  expressions,  of 
Moses  and  the  Prophets,  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles  ? 
If  they  are  to  be  effected  at  all,  what  so  fit  for  the 
purpose,  as  that  which  was  performed,  for  this  very 
end,  by  the  very  wisdom  of  God  ?  ‘  The  word  of 

God  is  quick  and  powerful,’  we  are  told,  ‘  and 
sharper  than  a  two-edged  sword.’  But,  I  think, 
modern  practice  effectually  prevents  this  being  either 


39 


known,  or  felt.  For,  in  my  mind,  mere  reading  the 
Scriptures,  without  opening  them,  is  but  wielding  the 
sword,  with  the  scabbard  on :  and  preaching,  in  the 
usual  way,  is  brandishing  a  weapon,  of  human  manu¬ 
facture,  (which  has  neither  power  nor  sharpness,)  in 
its  room.  But,  to  explain  the  Scriptures  themselves  ; 
to  lead  them,  from  clause  to  clause,  and  from  verse  to 
verse  ;  to  shew  the  wise  adaptation,  of  the  observation, 
to  the  occasion ;  to  explain  the  connection,  and,  by 
that  means,  exhibit  the  innate  wisdom,  of  the  sacred 
text ;  to  shew  the  knowledge  of  the  human  heart, 
which  it  implies  ;  the  accordance  with  human  conduct, 
and  the  matchless  conduciveness  to  real  happiness, 
personal  and  social,  which  it  displays ;  and,  under 
such  a  display,  to  put  it  to  them,  ‘  Is  not  this  infinite 
truth  ?  Is  not  this  the  way  to  happiness  ?  Do  not 
your  hearts  give  their  testimony  to  this, . .  c  that  he  that 
doeth  these  things,  shall  never  fall?5  consequently, 
this  is  the  word  of  God,  which  if  you  go  on  to  despise, 
let  your  own  hearts  tell  what  must  be  your  feelings, 
when  you  come  to  the  verge  of  eternity  !  ’  —  It  is  only 
after  laying  open  the  Scriptures  themselves,  that  any 
modest  man  could  speak  thus,  and  yet,  to  speak  thus, 
is  the  only  way  to  rouse  the  benumbed  consciences  of 
men. 

In  another  letter,  I  hope  to  give  you  my  thoughts, 
on  the  matter  of  your  lectures  ;  which,  at  present,  I 
conceive  should  be,  alternately,  from  the  historical 
parts  of  the  Old  Testament,  beginning  with  the  lives 
and  characters  of  the  Patriarchs ;  and  from  the 
Gospel,  and  Epistles. 

Most  truly  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


j)  4 


40 


LETTER  4. 


Dawson-street,  April  3.  1802. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  ought  long  since  to  have  written  to  you ;  but  various 
causes  have  concurred,  to  make  me  a  defaulter.  I 
was  obliged  to  you  for  your  little  memoir.*  My  only 
fault  with  which  was,  that  it  was  too  well  —  that  is, 
too  elaborately  written.  The  matter,  as  far  as  I  can 
pretend  to  judge,  was,  in  point  of  local  information, 
interesting ;  and  the  arrangement,  and  expression, 
clear ;  but  I  could  have  wished  to  have  seen  no 
attempt  at  good  writing ;  nor  any  rise,  above  col¬ 
loquial  ease.  Perhaps,  you  were  not  aware,  that 
there  was  such  an  attempt.  I,  therefore,  take  the 
liberty  of  mentioning  that  it  struck  me  ;  as  I  cannot 
but  think  the  occurrence  of  this,  now  and  then,  your 
single  fault.  I  may,  perhaps,  some  other  time,  go 
more  into  the  particulars  of  your  pleasant  statistic 
sketch.  But,  at  present,  I  have  a  more  important 
subject  to  talk  to  you  on. 

Mr. - shewed  me  your  prospectus  for  an  asso¬ 

ciation  sermon  ;  which,  in  substance,  I  much  like. 
But,  let  me  advise  you,  sit  down,  in  the  very  first 
instance,  to  Lowth  ;  and  read  at  the  average  of  two 
lectures  a  day.  No  one  can  do  full  justice  to  the 
sacred  volume,  until  he  has  read  that  exquisite  work. 
I  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  you  would  find  materials 
in  it.  I  rather  think  not:  at  least,  to  any  great 
amount.  But  you  would,  on  perusing  it,  see  the 
Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament,  in  so  new,  and  so 
elevated  a  point  of  view,  that  you  would  be  able  to 


*  A  statistical  account  of  the  parish  of  Swanlinbar.  —  Ed. 


41 


speak  of  them,  with  a  spirit  and  animation,  which 
nothing  short  of  the  rich  light  he  throws  on  them, 
could,  I  think,  raise  in  the  mind.*  I  am,  myself 
going  through  them  slowly.  And  a  more  beautiful 
work,  or  more  useful  aid  for  understanding  holy 
Scripture,  never,  I  conceive,  in  any  other  instance, 
came  from  a  human  pen.  In  fact,  I  never  met 
any  thing  more  interesting,  or  more  truly  entertain¬ 
ing  ;  nor  can  I  believe,  that  it  was,  wholly,  sine 
numine .  If  you  have  not  yet  begun  it,  let  this  be  a 
stimulus  :  if  you  have  begun  it,  you  could,  I  am 
sure,  say  more  yourself. 

Any^  assistance  I  could  help  you  to,  you  may  fairly 
command.  And  that  I  may  be  able  to  help  you,  I 
should  be  glad  to  have  your  syllabus,  as  soon  as  you 
form  it.  What  hints  I  offer  you,  will  be  yours  to  re¬ 
ject,  as  freely  as  to  use.  But,  having  thought  a  little 
on  the  subject,  and  wishing  you  to  make  the  most, 
that  can  be  made  of  it,  in  a  single  sermon,  I  feel  an 
inclination  to  contribute  towards  your  stock  of 
materials. 

It  is  my  conjecture,  that  the  idea  usually  enter¬ 
tained,  of  the  holy  Scripture  being  (dsoTTvava-Tog  (in, 
perhaps,  a  different  sense  from  what  the  Apostle 
meant),  has  kept  very  many  back,  from  exercising 
their  judgments,  on  its  structure  and  composition. 
It  has  been  so  regarded,  as  authoritative,  as,  possibly, 
to  have  lost  some  of  the  esteem  it  deserved,  as  a  scheme 
of  sublime  philosophy.  It  has  been  usual,  to  view 
the  holy  Scripture,  as  a  divine  code  of  laws  ;  but  this, 
I  conceive,  is  but  a  small  part  of  its  design.  It,  cer- 

*  The  fruits  of  this  recommendation  were  seen,  18  years  after  the  date  of  this 
letter,  in  Bishop  Jebb’s  ‘  Sacred  Literature in  which  Bishop  Lowth’s  prin¬ 
ciple,  advanced  on  and  matured,  has  been  successfully  applied  to  the  New 
Testament.  — Ed. 


42 


tainly,  does  give  directions  for  conduct,  both  by  ex¬ 
ample,  and  precept ;  but  it  seems  to  me,  to  aim, 
primarily,  at  making  provision,  a  priori,  for  right 
conduct,  by  fixing  in  the  human  heart,  right  principles 
of  action.  It  is  not  satisfied  with  enlightening  the 
understanding,  and  depending  upon  that  for  wise 
acting  :  which  is  the  strict  province  of  a  code  of 
laws.  But,  on  the  far  nobler  plan,  it  directs  its 
energies  to  the  centre  of  all  action,  the  heart ;  and, 
when  fully  operative  there,  makes  virtue  and  good¬ 
ness,  matters  of  course.  The  scripture  philosophy 
is,  that  there  are  no  right  actions,  where  there  are  no 
right  tempers.  4  If  I  give  my  body  to  be  burned, 
and  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  have  not  love, 
it  profiteth  me  nothing.’  Again,  that,  where  there 
are  right  tempers,  there  must  be  right  actions.  ‘  Love 
worketh  no  evil  to  his  neighbour,  therefore,  love  is 
the  fulfilling  of  the  law,’  and,  ‘  if  there  be  any  other 
commandment,  it  is  briefly  comprehended  in  this  say¬ 
ing,  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself.’  But 
it  teacheth,  farther,  that  all  right  tempers  are  resolv¬ 
able  into  a  farther  principle,  which  it  denominates 
faith,  that  is,  an  impressive,  heart-felt  sense  of  God, 
and  of  our  relation  to  him,  as  revealed  in  the  Scripture. 

‘  This  is  life  eternal,  to  know  thee,  the  only  true  God, 
and  Jesus  Christ,  whom  thou  hast  sent.’  ‘  Neither 
circumcision  availeth  any  thing,  nor  uncircumcision, 
but  faith  which  worketh  by  love.’  That  is,  —  true 
faith  immediately  produces  love ;  and,  by  means  of  that 
divine -temper,  becomes  operative  in  every  thing  true 
and  honest,  just  and  pure,  lovely  and  of  good  report. 

This,  briefly,  I  take  to  be  the  heart  and  soul  of  the 
Scripture.  True,  it  certainly  appears,  apart  from  its 
divinity,  as  the  most  noble  and  beautiful  scheme  of 
philosophy,  that  ever  was  thought  of:  indeed,  not  apart 


43 


from  its  divinity  ;  as  none,  I  am  assured,  but  the 
Fountain  of  wisdom  and  goodness,  could  have  con¬ 
ceived  so  divine  a  system.  I  must  now  break  off,  for 
the  present,  fearing  I  shall  be  too  late  for  the  post. 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  VII. 

To  A.  Knox ,  Esq . 


Swanlinbar,  April  7.  1802. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  had  been,  for  some  time,  accusing  myself,  of  not 
thanking  you  for  your  excellent  advice,  respecting 
the  popish  perversion ;  and,  still  more,  for  your  most 
improving  observations  on  lecturing  ;  when  I  found 
my  debt  considerably  increased,  by  your  last,  most 
acceptable  letter.  Your  reasons  for  lecturing  are  so 
solid  and  convincing,  that,  had  I  entertained  any 
idea  of  relinquishing  the  plan,  they  could  not  but 
have  removed  it.  I  hope  to  plan  a  little  course,  ere 
long ;  and,  indeed,  nothing  would  prevent  me  from 
chalking  it  out  immediately,  but  the  expectation  of 
your  promised  thoughts,  on  the  matter  which  it  would 
be  best  to  employ.  I  have  sent  to  town  for  Henry’s 
Commentary ;  from  which  I  expect  much  materials. 
And  now,  my  dear  Sir,  let  me  return  you  my 
warmest  thanks,  for  your  candid  and  friendly  men¬ 
tion  of  a  fault,  which  I  am  conscious  ofi  in  my  style 
of  writing.  I  think  that  you  have  touched  me  only 
too  gently  ;  and  you  will  greatly  add  to  the  many 
obligations  you  have  conferred  on  me,  by  probing 


44 


me  to  the  quick  on  this,  or  any  other  point.  One 
of  the  greatest  blessings  which  can  be  derived,  from 
a  communication  with  real  friends,  is  the  exposure  of 
our  errors.  And  I  trust  that,  if  vou,  now  and  then, 
take  the  trouble  of  bestowing  a  little  correction  on  me, 
it  will  not  be  thrown  awray.  I  am  sure,  in  the  present 
case,  you  are  perfectly  right.  My  pen  too  often  runs 
into  a  kind  of  measured  period.  I  shall  endeavour  to 
correct  the  fault,  and  to  write  with  more  simplicity 
for  the  future. 

Need  I  say,  that  I  am  truly  grateful  for  your  kind 
offer  of  assistance,  in  the  business  of  an  association 
sermon  ?  I  think  not.  I  am  sure  that  it  will  be 
more  agreeable  to  you,  that  I  should  restrain  myself 
from  speaking  what  I  feel,  respecting  both  the  kind¬ 
ness,  and  value,  of  the  proposal.  I  shall,  indeed,  most 
thankfully  send  you  my  syllabus,  when  it  is  formed  : 
but  I  am  in  doubts  how  far  I  can  go  beyond  the  little 
sketch  you  saw,  till  I  have  made  some  progress  in 
collecting  materials.  Besides,  though,  at  the  instance 
of  my  friend  Magee  #,  I  undertook  to  think  of  the 
matter,  I  do  not  believe  it  has  been  mentioned  to  the 
Association  ;  and  I  cannot  help  thinking  they  may, 
very  probably,  not  listen  to  the  proposal  of  employing 
a  person  so  young,  inexperienced,  and  unknown,  as 
I  am. 

I  should,  long  since,  have  made  a  great  advance  in 
Lowth,  had  it  not  been  for  the  negligence  and  delay 
of  carmen.  ]  did  not  receive  it  till  about  jive  days 
since  ;  and  had  just  entered  on  it,  when  I  received 
your  stimulus.  Even  the  small  progress  I  have  now 
made,  fully  justifies  me  in  calling  it  a  wonderful  book. 

The  entrance  to  the  temple  is  beautiful  and  glorious  \ 

\ 

*  Afterwards  Archbishop  of  Dublin.  —  Ed. 


4  5 


what  shall  I  say,  when  I  atn  admitted  into  the  Sanc¬ 
tuary  ? 

#  #  #  #  # 

-V,  44.  JA, 

■Jr  TT  TT  1? 

Dear  Sir, 

Your  most  obliged  and  sincere  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  5. 

April  13.  1802. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  certainly  know  no  fault  in  your  compositions,  but 
the  single  one  I  have  mentioned.  And  I  was  the  more 
disposed  to  mention  that,  because  I  conceive  you 
may  easily  get  rid  of  it.  Dr.  O’Connor  and  I  are  the 
only  present  members  of  the  Preacher  Committee  ; 

- ,  the  third  member,  having  gone  to  England. 

We,  of  course,  could  soon  settle  the  matter,  were  it 
not  that  the  Bishop  of  Killaloe  has  been  somehow  or 
other  spoken  of.  My  opinion,  however,  is,  that  he 
will  not  choose  to  undertake  it,  as  speaking  in  public 
is  troublesome  to  him ;  and,  as  I  conceive,  he  will 
not  choose  to  move  in  so  very  trodden  a  path.  The 
Bishop  is  a  first-rate  preacher,  for  sense  and  language. 
Too  flowery,  a  little,  perhaps;  but  very  able.  So 
that  I  promise,  since  it  has  been  spoken  of,  the  offer 
will  be  made  to  him  :  though,  as  I  said,  I  think  he  will 
not  undertake  it.  I  hope  to  mention  to  you  whatever 
may  occur. 

My  notion  of  the  best  mode  of  lecturing  would  be, 
to  begin  with  Genesis  and  the  Gospels,  alternately  ; 
not  going  regularly  through  either,  but  selecting 


46 


portions  in  order.  The  flood,  perhaps,  would  furnish 
matter  for  one  ;  and,  perhaps,  the  subsidence  of  the 
water,  and  the  going  out  of  the  ark,  and  the  sacrifice 
of  Noah,  another.  The  life  of  Abraham  *,  would 
afford  several :  in  particular,  the  sacrifice  of  Isaac.  I 
do  not  know  whether  Isaac’s  life,  after  this  event, 
would  furnish  any  thing:  but  Jacob’s  history  would 
give  two  or  three ;  beginning  with  the  vision  of  the 
ladder.  The  Gospels  might  be  lectured  on,  select¬ 
ively,  or  continuously,  as  you  found  it  expedient : 
perhaps,  however,  the  former  mode  would,  in  the 
first  instance,  be  better,  as  leaving  more  liberty.  To 
begin,  as  if  continuously,  would  bind  one,  in  some 
respects,  to  go  on. 

In  your  lectures  in  Genesis,  Hale  might  help. 
But  I  would  recommend  one  great  object :  to  impress 
awful  and  interesting  views  of  God’s  attributes  ;  the 
reality  of  his  providence  in  the  world  ;  his  care  of 
those  who  serve  him ;  and  the  happiness  of  those 
who  do  so.  The  circumstance  of  their  being  stran¬ 
gers  and  pilgrims,  wherever  it  is  referred  to,  has  in  it 
something  peculiarly  capable  of  improvement.  The 
design  in  this,  most  probably,  was,  to  keep  their 
families  insulated,  until  they  had  acquired  a  set  of 
habits  of  their  own ;  peculiar  to  themselves,  as  wor¬ 
shippers  of  the  one  true  God.  And,  in  this  view, 
Egypt  was  a  most  proper  country  for  them  to  sojourn 
in  ;  as  the  repulsive  habits  of  the  Egyptians,  were  a 
full  security  against  any  vicious  contagion.  One 
grand  use  of  the  patriarchal  history  is,  to  shew,  that 
true  religion  requires  total  resignation  of  one’s  self, 
to  the  will  and  guidance  of  God.  This,  as  operating 
in  the  heart,  was  that  faith,  which  was  imputed  to 

*  A  sermon,  on  this  important  subject,  was  composed,  long  after,  by  Bishop 
Jebb;  and  has  appeared  in  c  Practical  Theology,’  published  in  1830.  —  Ed. 


47 


them  for  righteousness.  They  were  at  God’s  dis¬ 
posal  ;  ever  ready  to  go,  at  his  call,  from  country  to 
country.  This  was,  in  its  principle,  true  religion  ; 
and,  therefore,  they  are  held  forth  as  examples  to  us, 
who,  like  them,  are  called,  also,  4  to  be  pilgrims  and 
strangers  upon  earth.’  Yet,  who,  then  on  earth, 
were  so  happy  as  those  pilgrims  ?  They  wandered 
from  one  kingdom  to  another,  from  one  nation  to 
another  people.  But  they  were  still  in  God’s  empire  ; 
and  he  shewed  they  were  :  for,  4  he  suffered  no  man 
to  do  them  wrong ;  but  reproved  even  kings  for 
their  sake.’  How  infinitely,  then,  was  their  lot  pre¬ 
ferable,  to  the  kings,  in  whose  lands  they  sojourned? 
In  this,  also,  they  are  patterns  and  encouragements. 
God  calls  all  men,  to  leave  the  country,  they  have 
hitherto,  in  general,  lived  in  :  for  who  has  not,  more 
or  less,  like  the  prodigal,  gone  into  4  a  far  country?’ 
Nay,  we  are  born  in  sin  ;  and,  too  generally,  continue 
in  it.  This  country,  then,  we  are  to  leave  ;  and 
follow  God’s  will,  in  righteousness,  and  true  holiness  ; 
though  to  do  so,  may  imply,  sometimes,  a  'pilgrimage, 
in  respect  to  present  gratifications,  and  the  favourite 
objects  of  the  world.  Yet,  is  it  not  worth  while  to 
submit  to  the  inconveniences  of  the  Patriarchs,  in 
order  to  share  with  them  in  their  blessings  ?  The  city 
they  sought,  that  which  4  hath  foundations,’  is  destined 
for  all,  who  imitate  their  obedient,  self-denying  faith. 
And,  even  here,  there  is  substantially,  though  less  visi¬ 
bly,  the  same  protection  ;  for,  says  Saint  Peter, c  Who 
will  harm  you,  if  ye  be  followers  of  that  which  is 
good?’  The  hebraisms,  which  are  used  in  the  Old 

<D 

Testament  to  describe  religion,  are  peculiarly  sus¬ 
ceptible  of  useful  interprement.  For  instance,  4  Noah 
was  perfect  in  his  generation,  and  walked  with  God 
Again,  4  Walk  before  me,  and  be  thou  perfect.’  Every 


48 


thing  of  this  kind  ought  to  be  laid  hold  of;  it  being 
always  the  great  point,  to  impress  the  happiness  of  a 
life  of  true  religion,  and  the  misery  of  the  reverse. 

Whether  I  have  now  said  any  thing  very  worthy 
your  attention,  I  do  not  know.  But,  as  I  was  in 
your  debt  for  some  remarks,  I  have  wished,  at  least, 
to  shew  you  my  good  will.  The  Gospels  may,  per¬ 
haps,  be  attended  to  a  little,  at  some  other  time. 
You  have,  perhaps,  observed,  that  the  Bishop  of 
London’s  lectures  are  at  press. 

Yours  most  truly, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  VIIL 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 

Swanlinbar,  July  26.  1802. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  have  just  formed  a  kind  of  syllabus  of  my  As¬ 
sociation  Sermon ;  and  am  now  about  to  avail  myself 
of  your  friendly  permission  to  send  it  to  you,  trusting 
that  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  point  out  its  de¬ 
fects  ;  and,  according  to  your  kind  promise,  will 
furnish  me  with  some  hints  and  materials,  towards 
tilling  it  up.  I  am  doubtful  about  many  things, 
especially  the  text ;  and,  therefore,  shall  not  proceed 
in  the  business,  till  I  hear  from  you. 

Text  —  Isaiah,  LXII.  10. 

I,  1.  Text  opened — refers  to  the  ultimate  restoration 
of  the  Jews — admits  of  application  to  the  calling 
of  any  people,  to  the  knowledge  and  practice  of 
true  spiritual  religion — This  the  object  of  As- 


49 


sociation,  who  have  4  gone  through  the  gates  9  . 

4  cast  up  the  highway  5  .  .  4  gathered  out  the 
stones 9  .  .  actively  engaged  in  removing  obstruc¬ 
tions,  and  making  necessary  preparations,  for  the 
establishment  of  righteousness  in  our  land  .  . 
Shown  how  instrumental  to  these  great  objects, 
have  been  the  talents  and  exertions  of  former 
preachers .  .  aim  of  my  humble  efforts,  to  assist 
in  4  lifting  up  a  Standard  for  the  people 9  .  .:  the 
Standard  of  holy  Scripture .  .  which,  like  a 
military  banner,  shall  not  only  serve  to  collect 
together  a  people  zealous  of  good  works,  but  to 
inspire  them  with  courage  and  resolution,  in  their 
holy  warfare. 

2.  Standard  to  be  lifted  up  amongst  higher  orders 
.  .  lament  their  general  neglect  of  sacred  volume 
.  .  this,  in  a  great  measure  attributable  to, 

3,  Undue  prejudices  against  its  style; 

2,  inadequate  conceptions  of  its  object: 

These  obviated  by, 

1,  An  attempt  to  vindicate  the  sublimity 
and  beauty  of  Scripture,  corroborated 
by, 

1,  A  view  of  the  noble  spirit  in¬ 
fused  into  the  writings  of  our 

•  earliest  English  authors,  by  an  in¬ 

timate  acquaintance  with  holy 
writ. 

2,  Testimonies  of  men  eminent  for 
learning,  accomplishments,  and 
taste  .  .  Lord  Bacon  .  .  Robert 
Boyle  .  .  Sir  Wm,  Jones  .  . 

2,  A  statement  of  the  real  object  of  Scrip¬ 
ture  .  .  not  merely  a  code  of  laws, 
directed  to  the  understanding,  but  a 

E 


VOL,  i. 


50 


scheme  of  sublime  philosophy,  on  a  far 
nobler  plan,  addressing  itself  to  the 
heart. 

This  supported  by. 

Its  effects  on  men  in  the  active  and 
elevated  stations  of  life,  when 
operative  rather  as  a  vital  prin¬ 
ciple,  than  an  external  rule. 

3.  Association,  urged  to  provide  for  the  inculcating 
these  and  similar  ideas  of  Scripture,  by  much 
abler  persons  than  myself,  through  the  medium 
of  a  public  lecture  in  the  Metropolis .  .A  measure 
once  in  their  contemplation. 

This  plan  vindicated  from  the  imputation  of 
being  chimerical  and  inefficient,  by  the  suc¬ 
cess  of  the  Bishop  of  London’s  lectures ; 
attended,  during  four  years,  in  the  most 
fashionable  church  of  our  sister  metropolis, 
by  an  assemblage  noless  remarkable  for  strict 
order,  and  apparent  piety,  than  for  magni¬ 
tude  and  rank .  .  Brief  view  of  the  Bishop’s 
lectures. .  and  statement  of  the  happy  effects 
which  might  be  produced  on  the  minds  of 
our  higher  ranks,  by  similar  lectures,  here. 

II.  All  that  has  been  said,  is  connected  with  the 
Association’s  great  object,  a  dissemination  of  the 
Scriptures  amongst  the  poor. 

1.  The  rich,  the  conduits,  through  which,  the 
Scriptures  must  flow  to  the  lower  orders  : . .  it  is 
not  by  cold  calculations  of  political  expediency, 
that  they  can  be  induced  to  enter,  with  zeal,  into 
this  labour  of  love  .  .  but  inspire  them  with 
love  and  veneration  for  the  sacred  volume,  and 
the  most  happy  effects  will  be  conspicuous  ; 

1.  In  themselves  .  .  zeal,  warm  and  affec- 


51 


/ 


tionate,  proceeding  from  a  divine  principle 
of  charity. 

2.  In  the  people .  .  receiving  the  Bible  from 
the  hands  of  their  superiors,  without  sus¬ 
picion  of  any  sinister  view .  .  love  .  .  grati¬ 
tude,  &c. . .  people  shrewd  .  .  know  the  dif¬ 
ference,  between  those,  who  would  ‘  hold 
them  in  with  hit  and  bridle ,  like  brute  beasts 
that  have  no  understanding  *  and  those,  who 
would  ‘  draw  them  with  the  cords  of  a  man , 
with  the  bands  of  love,9 

2.  Necessity  of  such  exertions  . .  view  of  wretched 
ignorance  of  lower  classes,  respecting  the  great 
truths  of  Religion,  and  consequent  effects.  . 
Much  has  been  done,  it  is  true .  .  number  of 
Bibles  and  Testaments  distributed  .  .  approba¬ 
tion  of  mode  .  .  statement,  from  experience  of 
effects .  .  donation  from  Society  for  promoting 
Christian  Knowledge  in  London  .  .  but  much  re¬ 
mains  to  be  done .  .  Association  urged  to  proceed 
.  .  to  impress  on  the  gentry,  by  every  possible 
means,  the  necessity  and  advantages  of  their  in¬ 
terference  .  .  Members  called  upon,  not  to  rest 
satisfied  with  the  public  and  general  applications 
of  the  body  at  large,  but  to  apply,  privately  and 
earnestly,  to  their  individual  friends. 

3.  Conclusion.  Delightful  effects  on  country  at 
large  .  .  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor .  .  view  of 
a  country,  where  the  Scriptures  rule  the  life,  and 
regulate  the  heart  .  .  preparing  the  way,  for 
glorious  time  (alluded  to  in  the  text)  when 
Christ’s  kingdom  of  universal  piety,  shall  be 
established  on  earth  .  .  for  still  more  glorious 
consummation  of  all  things  in  heaven. 

e  °Z 


52 


This,  my  dear  Sir,  is  the  sketch,  which  I  un¬ 
reservedly  submit  to  your  castigation  :  to  your  tried 
friendship,  I  look  for  unqualified  censure,  where- 
ever  you  think  it  due.  You  will  perceive,  that  the 
best  feature  in  this  little  prospectus,  is  borrowed  from 
one  of  your  letters.  I  need  not  tell  you,  that  I  mean 
the  moral  view  of  Scripture,  as  a  scheme  of  sublime 
philosophy.  On  that  subject,  a  few  hints  will  be 
most  truly  acceptable.  I  commissioned  a  friend  to 
get  for  me  the  Bishop  of  London’s  lectures  ;  but  have 
heard  nothing  from  him.  I  am  extremely  anxious  to 
get  them ;  and  I  should  be  very  much  obliged  to  you, 
if  they  are  at  Archer’s,  to  procure  them,  and  get 

them  freed  by  Mr. - - — ;  or,  if  they  are  not,  to 

get  them,  through  the  Post  Office,  from  London,  and 
send  them  to  me.  I  shall  thankfully  repay  you,  when 
we  meet ;  and  should  not  think  of  giving  you  this 
trouble,  but  that  I  think  it  essential  to  my  scheme, 
that  I  should  very  soon  read  them. 

I  have  been  lecturing  through  Genesis:  not  so 
much  to  my  own  satisfaction,  as  I  could  wish  ;  but 
endeavouring,  haud  passibus  cequis ,  to  follow  up  your 
views. 

I  am,  also,  preparing  young  people  for  confirm¬ 
ation  :  so  that,  with  this  sermon,  which  not  a  little 
alarms  me,  I  have  much  business  on  hands.  My 
head  aches,  with  much  writing  to-day ;  I  must, 
therefore,  conclude  with  assuring  you,  that  I  am, 

Dear  Sir, 

Your  much  obliged,  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


53 


LETTER  IX. 

To  A.  Knox ,  Esq . 


August  16.  1802. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  have  been  prevented  from  answering  any  of  your 
kind  letters,  by  an  apprehension,  that  I  could  not 
reach  you  before  your  sailing  for  England  ;  and  I  now 
venture  a  few  lines,  at  hazard. 

I  thank  you  much,  for  your  observations  on  the 
text;  and  have  been  anxiously  waiting  for  something 
more.  I  suspend  doing  any  thing,  till  I  hear  from 
you  more  fully. 

At  present,  I  confess  myself  not  entirely  inclined 
to  acquiesce,  in  the  text  you  recommend :  it  strikes 
me  as  an  excellent  one,  for  a  sermon  addressed  to 
parents,  on  giving  their  children  an  early  knowledge 
of,  and  taste  for  the  Scriptures.  But,  if  you  look  at 
the  little  sketch  I  sent,  I  think  you  will  see,  that  the 
object  I  propose  to  myself,  is  not  so  much  a  panegyric 
on  Scripture,  as  an  incitement  to  the  Association,  to 
pursue  the  dissemination  of  the  Bible;  as  being  the 
best  mode  of  promoting  religion.  I  am,  however, 
fully  open  to  conviction  ;  and  doubt  not,  that  you 
have  good  reasons  to  object  to  the  text  from  Isaiah ; 
though,  at  present,  I  still  think,  it  touches  the  sub¬ 
ject,  without  any  strained  construction. 

I  trust  that  you  will  not  give  me  up  as  incorrigible, 
for  not  immediately  seeing  the  text  from  St.  Timothy, 
in  the  light  you  do.  lam  really  not  without  a  great 
deal  of  diffidence,  in  even  appearing  to  put  my  opinion 
in  competition  with  yours ;  but  I  hope  your  next 

e  3 


5i< 


letter  will  put  an  end  to  all  doubt  and  difficulty.  I 
am  obliged  to  conclude  myself)  in  much  haste, 

My  dear  Sir, 

Your  much  obliged,  and  affectionate 

friend  and  servant, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  X. 
To  A.  Knoocy  Esq . 


Swanlinbar,  Sept.  15.  1802. 

My  dear  Sir, 

It  is  now  more  than  a  month,  since  I  received  your 
last  letter  of  the  7th  August;  in  which  you  were  kind 
enough  to  promise  me  a  full  letter,  by  the  next  post. 
I  make  no  doubt  this  letter  has  been  lost,  through 
some  mistake  of  the  Post  Office ;  and,  from  the  dis¬ 
appointment,  I  am  constrained  to  begin  the  sermon, 
on  the  plan  I  submitted  to  you ;  as  the  time  ap¬ 
proaches  too  near,  for  any  further  delay.  However, 
though  I  know  not  where  you  now  are,  or  how  en¬ 
gaged,  I  entertain  some  hopes,  that  this  may  soon 
reach  you,  and  that  you  will  have  the  goodness  to 
send  me  a  few  hints.  I  need  not  say,  how  highly 
useful  I  would  esteem  them  :  and  they  are  the  more 
wanting,  as,  from  a  confinement  of  some  days,  by  a 
heavy  cold,  which  is  not  yet  removed,  I  find  myself 
much  unfitted  for  exertion.  I  fear  much  I  shall  do 
myself,  and  my  friends,  some  discredit  in  this  business. 
But,  though  I  enter  on  it  with  much  distrust  in  my¬ 
self)  I  still  have  hopes,  from  the  assistance  of  that 


55 


good  Providence,  which  has  been  uniformly  kind  to 
me. 

I  have  met  with,  and  read  some  of  the  Bishop  of 
London’s  lectures.  I  am  sorry  they  were  published. 
They  certainly  made  great  impression,  at  the  time  of 
their  delivery;  but,  in  the  closet,  they  appear  to  such 
disadvantage,  that  I  wonder  much  at  the  character 
they  obtained. 

#  #  *  #  * 
##*■#* 

As  I  am  desirous  not  to  be  too  late  for  our  post,  I 
must  have  done. 

Believe  me,  dear  Sir, 

Your  truly  obliged  and  affectionate, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  XL 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 


]  802.  About  Sept,  or  Oct. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  yesterday  dispatched  a  packet  to  you,  under  cover 
to  Mr.  Taylor,  which  I  trust  you  have,  ere  this,  re¬ 
ceived.  Lest,  however,  it  should  not  have  reached 
you,  let  me  request,  that  you  will  have  the  goodness 
to  procure  further  time  for  the  sermon.  You  have 
shown  me  the  necessity  of  new-modelling  a  part  of  my 
plan ;  and,  indeed,  indisposition  has  thrown  me  so  far 
back,  and  continues  to  impede  me  so  much,  that  I 
could  not,  with  any  justice,  either  to  the  committee 
that  proposed  me,  or  to  the  Association,  pretend  to 
address  them  on  the  2nd  of  November ;  especially  on 

e  f 


56 


a  subject  that  requires  some  thought  and  energy; 
neither  of  which  I  can  command  at  present.  If 
Christmas  did  not  interfere,  and  absolutely  require 
my  presence  here,  a  day  in  December  might  answer, 
But,  circumstanced  as  I  am,  I  could  much  wish  for 
a  day  in  January ;  against  which  time,  I  hope,  with 
God’s  assistance,  to  be  in  some  degree  prepared. 

This  morning  in  looking  over  Cicero’s  moral  works, 
I  was  forcibly  struck,  with  his  beautiful  apostrophe 
to  philosophy.  Tusc.  Quaest.  lib.  5.  cap.  2.  As,  per¬ 
haps,  you  may  not  just  now  have  the  book  by  you, 
and  to  save  you  the  trouble  of  going  to  your  shelf  for 
it,  I  shall  transcribe  the  passage. 

c  Oh,  vitae  Philosophia  dux !  oh  virtutis  indagatrix, 
expultrixque  vitiorum !  quid,  non  modo  nos,  sed 
omnino  vita  hominum  sine  te  esse  potuisset  ?  Tu, 
urbes  peperisti :  tu,  dissipatos  homines  in  societatem 
vitae  convocasti :  tu,  eos  inter  se  prirno  domiciliis, 
deinde  conjugiis,  turn  literarum  et  vocum  com- 
munione,  junxisti:  tu,  inventrix  legum,  tu,  magistra 
morum  et  discipline  fuisti.  Ad  te  confugimus  :  a 
te  opem  petimus :  tibi  nos,  ut,  antea,  magna  ex  parte, 
sic,  nunc,  penitus  totosque  tradimus.  Est  autem 
unus  dies,  bene,  et  ex  praeceptis  tuis  actus,  peccanti 
immortalitati  anteponendus.  Cujus  igitur  potius 
opibus  utamur,  quam  tuis?  quae  et  vitae  tranquilli- 
tatem  largita  nobis  es,  et  terrorem  mortis  sustulisti. 
At  Philosophia,  quidem,  tantum  abest,  ut,  proinde 
ac  de  hominum  est  vita  merita,  laudetur ;  ut  a 
plerisque  neglecta,  a  multis  etiam  vituperetur.  Vitu- 
perare  quisquam  vitae  parentem,  et  hoc  parricidio  se 
inquinare,  audet?  et  tarn  impie  ingratus  esse,  ut  earn 
accuset  quam  vereri  deberet,  etiam  si  minus  perci- 
pere  potuisset  ?  ’ # 

*  O  !  Philosophy,  guide  of  life,  discoverer  of  virtue,  and  extirpator  of  vice,— 
what  must  be,  not  our  condition  only,  but  that  of  all  mankind,  if  bereft  of  thee  ? 


5  7 


Is  not  this  wonderfully  apposite  ?  IF,  for  Phi¬ 
losophy,  we  substitute  divine  wisdom  (as  displayed 
in  the  Scriptures),  is  not  every  word,  and  sentence, 
true  ?  What  was  wanting,  but  the  certainty  of  reve¬ 
lation,  and  the  ‘  matter-of-fact  display,’  which  per¬ 
vades  holy  Scripture,  to  render  the  view  powerfully 
influential  ?  Alas,  in  Cicero  it  was,  at  the  best,  but 
sublime  speculation.  It  wanted  reality ;  it  wanted 
sanction.  It  was  not  connected  with  a  sure  and  cer¬ 
tain  hope,  of  protection  in  danger,  support  under 
adversity,  comfort  in  the  hour  of  death,  .  .  proceeding 
from  an  all-good,  all-wise,  all-powerful  Being ;  the 
cause,  creator,  and  preserver  of  all  things.  And, 
hence,  it  availed  but  little,  in  the  hour  of  distress. 
This  *  vitas  dux,’  could  not  allay  the  bitterness  of 
more  than  manly  sorrow,  at  the  death  of  a  daughter ; 
could  not  bestow  either  cheering  hope,  or  patient  re¬ 
signation,  in  the  hour  of  banishment.  Let  us  view  the 
feelings  and  conduct  of  David,  under  similar  calami- 

O  J 

ties  ;  and,  surely,  we  must  at  once  acknowledge,  the 
superiority  of  the  views  which  influenced  him. 


To  thee,  cities  owe  their  birth  ;  by  thee,  the  scattered  sons  of  men,  were  gathered 
together  in  the  fellowship  of  social  life :  thou  hast  blended  them  into  one  family, 
first,  by  the  bonds  of  cohabitation  ;  next,  by  the  ties  of  marriage ;  then,  by 
the  intercommunity  of  written  and  spoken  language.  Thou  hast  been  the 
inventress  of  laws,  and  the  teacher  of  morals  and  of  manners.  To  thee  we  fly, 
from  thee  we  seek  for  succour  :  as,  aforetime,  we  yielded  thee  a  more  than  par¬ 
tial  service,  so,  now,  we  desire  to  surrender  ourselves  wholly,  and  without 
reserve.  For  one  well-spent  day,  passed  in  conformity  with  thy  precepts,  is 
preferable  to  a  sinning  immortality.  Whose  aids,  then,  shall  we  use,  in  pre¬ 
ference  to  thine,  who,  at  once,  hast  given  us  richly  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  a 
tranquil  life,  and  hast  robbed  death  of  his  terrors?  Yet,  so  far  is  Philosophy  from 
receiving  praise,  proportioned  to  her  merits,  as  the  benefactress  of  mankind,  that, 
by  most  men,  on  the  contrary,  she  is  held  in  neglect,  and,  by  too  many,  even 
contumeliously  entreated.  Who  durst  entreat  with  contumely  the  parent  of  life, 
or  pollute  his  soul  by  such  a  parricide  ?  who  be  so  impiously  ungrateful,  as  to 
bring  railing  accusations  against  her,  whom  he  ought  to  reverence,  however 
incompetent  to  estimate  her  at  her  real  worth  ? 


58 


I  am  obliged  to  conclude,  as  the  post  is  waiting  for 
this.  My  ideas,  on  the  subject  I  have  attempted 
writing  on,  are,  at  present,  far  from  clear.  So  far  as 
they  are,  they  but  follow  up  yours.  However,  I  should 
be  happy  to  have  your  opinion,  whether  this  passage 
might  be  translated,  and  quoted  with  effect.  As  I 
mentioned,  I  met  it  only  this  morning ;  and  have  not 
yet  had  time  to  consider  it.  I  shall  employ,  for  some 
days,  as  much  time  as  my  head-aches  will  permit  me,  in 
thinking  over  the  subject  of  Scripture,  taken  in  a  moral 
view.  I  see,  from  the  limits  I  must  necessarily  put  to 
the  discourse,  that  the  beauties  of  style  can  be  treated 
of  only  incidentally ;  for,  certainly,  no  very  small 
portion  of  the  sermon  should  be  matter  of  business. 
Quere  .  .  might  not  the  1st  Psalm  furnish  a  text  suf¬ 
ficiently  apposite  ?  the  3rd  verse,  taking  in  the  con¬ 
siderations,  both  of  the  happiness  conferred  on  the 
individual,  who  loves  and  meditates  on  Scripture,  and 
of  the  benefits,  which  he  confers  on  others. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  obliged  and  affectionate, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  XII. 

To  A,  Knox ,  Esq . 

October  6.  1802. 

My  dear  Sir, 

It  is  now  some  time,  since  I  removed  to  my  friend 
Mr.  Woodward’s  house,  here,  with  hopes  of  working 
more  uninterruptedly,  than  I  could  at  Swanlinbar; 


59 


by  which  means,  I  did  not  receive  your  third  commu¬ 
nication,  till  yesterday  evening.  The  whole  is  truly 
valuable.  I  consider  it,  not  merely  as  affording  mate¬ 
rials  for  the  present  occasion,  but  hope  to  derive  much 
advantage  from  it,  in  my  future  study  of  the  Bible. 
Notwithstanding  I  was  much  impeded  by  illness, 
when  I  received  your  first  packet,  I  had  then  made 
some  progress,  on  my  own  plan.  And,  after  no  little 
consideration,  I  found,  that,  on  the  whole,  I  could 
not  act  precisely  on  yours,  without  copying  you  more 
closely,  than  I  think  I  conscientiously  could  :  for, 
would  not  this  be  holding  out  false  colours  to  the 
world  ?  Besides,  my  ideas  had  got  into  a  particular 
train  :  and  I  should  have  found  it  very  difficult  to 
bring  them  into  another. 

According  to  the  scheme  I  had  laid  down  in  my 
mind,  the  sermon  was  to  be  a  hortatory  discourse, 
addressed  to  the  Association :  its  main  object,  to  ex¬ 
cite  them  to  perseverance,  in  the  dissemination  of 
the  Scriptures.  This  divided  itself  into  two  parts. 
1.  Giving  the  higher  orders  a  taste  for  those  sacred 
writings.  2.  Through  their  assistance,  generally  dis¬ 
seminating  them  among  the  poor.  In  this  view,  the 
direct  praise  of  Scripture  forms  but  a  branch.  And 
the  full  discussion  of  that  topic,  I  rather  wish  to  leave 
for  the  public  lecturer,  who  will,  I  hope,  be  appointed 
by  the  Association ;  and  to  whose  labours,  I  could 
wish  this  to  be  a  preliminary  step  :  as,  in  fact,  a 
leading  object  of  my  scheme  is,  to  urge  the  Associ¬ 
ation  to  make  provision,  for  the  future  inculcation  of 
right  ideas  concerning  Scripture. 

I  cannot  fail  to  derive  considerable  aid  from  your 
papers,  in  that  part  of  my  sermon,  which  relates  to 
the  moral  efficacy  of  Scripture.  The  only  thing  I  fear 
is,  that  I  shall  be  at  a  loss  which  ideas  to  select ;  for 


60 


it  is  really  not  easy  to  make  a  choice,  where  all  is  so 
good.  I  am  conscious,  that,  by  not  more  largely 
adopting  your  plan,  I  shall  not  produce  near  so  good 
a  sermon,  as  I  otherwise  might.  But  I  know  you 
will  attribute  my  continuance  in  the  plan  I  have 
chalked  out,  not  to  any  confidence  in  my  own  judg¬ 
ment.  The  Text  first  proposed,  I  have  retained :  but 
as,  please  God,  I  shall  be  in  town,  six  days  before 
the  2nd  of  November,  I  shall  have  time  to  confer 
with  you  *,  and  to  make  an  alteration,  if  you  deem  it 
expedient. 

I  feel  a  particular  inclination  to  profit  by  your 
ideas,  of  Scripture  operating  on  the  heart,  through  the 
interesting  matter-of-fact  view  it  gives  of  God,  exem¬ 
plified  in  the  feelings  and  actions  of  David.  Quere. 
Does  not  the  84th  Psalm  furnish  a  fine  contrast,  to 
the  abject  complaints  of  Cicero,  in  exile  ?  The  Psalm¬ 
ist  is  evidently  deprived  of  all  access  to  Jerusalem  : 
in  this  situation,  he  utters  the  most  pathetic  expres¬ 
sions  of  sorrow.  But,  what  gives  rise  tc  them  ?  his 
banishment  from  the  Sanctuary,  from  the  altars  of 
his  King  and  his  God :  and,  so  consolatory  are  the 
feelings  of  religion,  that  the  very  mention  of  God, 
turns  his  sorrow  into  joy.  And  he  concludes,  with 
the  most  lively  declarations  of  complacency  and  con¬ 
fidence,  in  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  his  sun  and  his  shield. 
Perhaps  the  expressions  and  sentiments  of  this  hea¬ 
venly  production,  immediately  contrasted  with  Cicero’s 
poor,  unmanly  complaints,  would  afford  a  happy  spe¬ 
cimen  of  the  superior  dignity  and  happiness  bestowed, 
by  right,  i.  e.  scriptural  conceptions  of  the  Deity. 

The  view  of  God’s  particular  Providence,  as  drawn 
from  the  patriarchal  history,  I  much  admire.  And 
the  New-Testament  part,  I  am  desirous,  in  some 
measure,  to  adopt.  In  fact,  the  two  circumstances 


61 


that  would  prevent  me  from  making  free  use  of  all 
your  ideas,  are,  want  of  room  within  a  sermon,  and  a 
feeling,  that  it  would  be  disingenuous,  and  unfair  in 
me,  to  gain  credit,  as  I  undoubtedly  should,  for  that 
which  is  not  my  own. 

I  propose  returning  home  to-morrow ;  when  I  shall, 
I  hope,  proceed  to  the  Scriptural  part  of  the  dis¬ 
course  ;  the  rest,  I  have  almost  finished,  but  in  a 
manner  that  does  not  satisfy  me. 

I  have  some  idea  of  introducing  a  few  words,  from 
Josephus  against  Apion :  that  passage,  in  which  he 
says,  that  the  reward  of  obedience  to  the  Mosaic  code, 
was  not  a  crown,  or  a  garland,  &c.,  but  an  internal 
feeling  of  confidence  in  God,  and  hope  of  a  future 
state,  &c.  I  have  not  the  book  by  me :  but  it  strikes 
me,  that  those  five  or  six  lines  are  extremely  beauti¬ 
ful  ;  and  give  a  very  exalted  idea  of  the  spiritual 
nature  of  the  Old  Testament. 

I  trust  you  will  excuse  the  great  incorrectness  and 
confusion  of  this  scrawl.  I  have  been  forced  to 
write  in  a  great  hurry,  as  I  feared  my  man  might  be 
too  late  for  the  post  in  Granard,  four  miles  distant. 
I  should  be  truly  obliged  to  you  for  a  few  lines,  if 
any  thing  occurs,  pro  or  con  any  thing  I  have  men¬ 
tioned.  Much,  indeed,  am  I  indebted  to  your  good¬ 
ness,  for  the  great  trouble  you  have  taken  in  this 
affair.  And  whether,  on  the  present  occasion,  I  can 
avail  myself  of  much  or  little  of  your  valuable  papers, 
they  will  be  of  most  material  service  to  me  in  future ; 
particularly  as  giving  me  new  ideas,  on  the  mode  of 
lecturing  on  Scripture. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  most  obliged  and  affectionate, 

John  Jerb. 


m 


LETTER  6. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

Your  letter  relieved  me  from  some  little  anxiety; 
as  I  feared,  from  not  hearing  from  you,  that  my 
packets  had  miscarried.  I  enter  most  fully  into 
all  your  feelings,  respecting  a  literal  use  of  what  I 
sent  you.  I  had  not  time  to  accompany  my  hints, 
with  my  ideas  how  you  might  best  use  them  ;  but, 
most  certainly,  I  felt  that  you  could  not  do  so,  con¬ 
sistently  with  the  delicacy  of  your  own  mind,  at  all 
in  the  way  of  transcript.  I  believe  I  said  something 
to  that  amount.  I  am  sure  I  thought  it.  But 
pardon  me  for  thinking,  that  there  is  not  a  thought  in 
it,  which  you  might  not  make  your  own  in  substance  ; 
by  reading  it  once  or  twice  over,  then  laying  it  quite 
aside  ;  and,  after  ten  days’  intermediate  thought,  put 
pen  to  paper,  and  compose  your  discourse,  from  the 
digested  materials  of  your  own  mind,  following  your 
own  train,  and  not  looking  at  me,  until,  at  least,  your 
rough  draught  were  completed. 

I  have  now  yours,  of  the  26th  July,  before  me. 
Could  I  have  commanded  thought,  as  I  wished,  I 
should  have  commented,  somewhat  at  large,  on  your 
plan,  to  explain  to  you  my  objections ;  for  to  say  the 
truth,  I  much  more  dislike  your  arrangement,  than  I 
like,  particularly,  the  plan  I  suggested.  Any  subject 
and  outline,  that  would  leave  room  for  giving  due 
relief  to  main  figures  in  the  piece,  would  sufficiently 
answer.  But  I  think,  in  every  discourse,  the  first 
object  is,  to  arrest  attention.  A  sermon,  therefore, 
should  not  commence,  with  a  statement  of  any  col- 


63 


lateral,  or  subordinate,  parts  or  circumstances  ;  but 
should  rather  impress  the  great  end,  .  .  the  supreme 
utility,  the  indispensable  necessity,  of  the  matter  in 
question.  There  was  something  of  this,  in  the  view 
of  the  greatest  epic  poets ;  who  made  it  a  point  to 
go,  at  once,  into  the  midst  of  things.  We  are  in¬ 
stantly  engaged,  by  the  wrath  of  Achilles  ;  it  makes 
us  know,  and  feel  for  the  hero  ;  and  we  follow  him, 
ever  after,  with  interest.  So,  too,  with  the  shipwreck 
of  Eneas.  For  this  reason,  then,  I  objected  to  the 
far-fetched  text,  as  requiring  a  round-about,  and  as  it 
might  seem  to  many,  a  forced  allegorizing ;  .  .  by 
which  the  minds  of  some  might  be  dissipated,  of  others, 
disgusted,  .  .  and  once  off,  might  not  return  again. 

On  the  same  principle,  I  disliked  the  beginning  the 
causes  of  neglect,  by  speaking  about  the  style.  This 
is  a  good  subordinate  topic,  because  it  leaves  room  for 
beautiful  and  captivating  remarks.  But  it  seems  to  r 
me  misplaced  here,  because  scarcely  suitable  to  fact. 
They  who  neglect  the  Scripture,  do  so,  because  they 
love  darkness  rather  than  light.  The  fault  is  in  the 
mind  and  heart ;  not  in  the  taste,  nor  in  philological 
fastidiousness.  This  seems  somewhat  taken  up  in 
the  next  point ;  but  the  idea  is  not  direct  nor  forcible 
enough.  Inadequate  conceptions,  implies  but  partial 
ignorance  ;  and  would  rather  account  for  misestima- 
tion,  than  absolute  neglect.  Nor  would  adequate 
conceptions  be  a  remedy.  For  strange  to  tell,  men 
may  4  understand  all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge,’ 
and  yet  not  have  Aya7rrj.  Therefore,  Saint  Paul  rests 
all,  on  receiving  the  truth,  4  in  the  love  of  it.’  The 
subordinate  members,  here,  are  not  inapposite ;  but 
they  would  grow  stronger,  by  being  connected  with 
a  more  vitalizing  kind  ;  which,  I  think,  should  be,  not 
as  above,  but  the  want  of  a  due  feeling  of  personal 


64 


interest  in  the  Scripture.  This  is  really  what  you 
meant,  but  you  wrapt  it  up  too  much  ;  and  nothing 
can  be  done  in  morals,  but  by  running  up  every  line 
to  the  centre,  resolving  every  thing  into  the  ultimate 
object,  .  .  personal  concern, .  .  a  man’s  own  safety  or 
danger,  misery  or  happiness.  Here,  I  conceive,  you 
ought  to  use  my  thoughts.  As  to  the  next  point, 
I  doubt  the  expediency  of  introducing  it  at  all.  As 
I  see  no  prospect  of  a  lecture,  nor,  inter  nos ,  knowing 
any  one,  fit  for  it  .  .  Graves*,  alone,  excepted:  and 
he,  hitherto,  I  think,  has  hardly  ever  done  full 
justice,  either  to  his  subjects,  or  himself ;  his  con¬ 
stitutional  fault  being  slovenliness.  What  a  pity, 
with  such  a  head  and  heart  !  But  imperfection 
cleaves,  inseparably,  to  mortality. 

I  now  proceed  to  your  second  general ;  in  which, 
most  of  what  you  say  is  in  point,  but  subor¬ 
dinate^  to  the  feeling  of  personal  concern ;  for, 
without  that,  men  will  never  do  warmly  for  others, 
what  they  disregard  for  themselves.  He  who  loves 
the  Bible  for  himself,  for  its  [own  sake,  may],  thereby, 
gain,  or  communicate  feeling ;  and,  when  you  open  a 
channel  for  that  feeling  to  act  in,  it  will  flow  forward 
of  itself.  But,  if  the  sentiment  be  not  there,  your 
stating  what  may  be  done  gradually,  and  politically 
what  ought,  will  be  like  laying  pipes,  where  there  is 
no  spring. 

For  all  these  reasons,  I  wish  you,  certainly,  to  make 
your  discourse  as  personal  as  you  possibly  can  ;  and 
as  I  know  no  pressing  reason,  why  it  should  be  in 
November,  rather  than  in  January,  if  you  thought 
you  might  gain  any  thing  by  time,  we  might  easily 
have  the  day  postponed.  I  wish  your  sermon  to  be 


*  Richard  Graves,  D.  D.,  the  late  learned  Dean  of  Ardagh.  —  Ed. 


65 


solid,  striking,  worthy  of  dispersion,  and  worthy  of 
preservation.  But,  to  be  so,  it  must  not  be  hurried  ; 
because  it  must  not  be  superficial,  nor  common-place. 
Do  not,  therefore,  be  over-nice  as  to  time  ;  but  be 
more  solicitous  to  do  justice  to  the  subject,  and  to 
your  own  character,  .  .  not  for  your  own,  but  for 
your  work’s  sake. 

Most  truly  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  XIII. 

To  A.  Knox ,  Esq . 


Swanlinbar,  Oct.  12.  1802. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  am  sincerely  obliged  to  you  for  your  objections,  and 
for  the  truly  candid  and  friendly  manner  in  which  you 
state  them.  In  general,  they  are  to  me  convincing ; 
and  I  cannot  but  regret,  that  I  did  not  receive  them 
sooner,  as  they  would,  probably,  have  saved  me  some 
fruitless  thought  and  labour. 

I  cheerfully  accede  to  your  general  position,  that, 
in  every  discourse,  the  first  object  should  be,  to  arrest 
attention ;  and,  also,  to  the  inference  drawn,  that  ‘  a 
sermon  should  not  commence,  with  the  statement  of 
any  collateral,  or  subordinate,  parts  or  circumstances.’ 
But  granting  these  points,  I  am  not  quite  certain, 
that  my  unfortunate  text  would  be  altogether  so 
exceptionable,  as  it  appears  to  you.  I  trust  you  will 
credit  me,  when  I  say,  that  I  defend  it,  not  from 

VOL.  I.  F 


66 


tenaciousness  of  my  own  opinion  :  in  truth,  I  am 
ready  to  give  it  up :  I  wish  only  to  state  a  few  of  my 
ideas  on  the  subject,  merely  in  self-justification  ;  and 
with  a  view  to  show,  that,  however  erroneous  may  be 
my  conception  of  the  passage,  it  was  far  from  being 
my  intention  to  allegorize  ;  a  practice  which,  perhaps, 
few  dislike  more,  in  sermons,  than  myself.  * 

Notwithstanding  the  narrow  and  confined  inter¬ 
pretation,  given  to  Isaiah  lxii.  10.,  by  most  commen¬ 
tators,  who  apply  it  to  the  return  from  the  Babylonish 
captivity,  I  have  not  a  doubt  on  my  mind,  after  no  slight 
consideration  of  the  context,  and  of  parallel  places, 
that,  in  its  direct  and  full  sense,  it  relates  to  the  final 
restoration  of  the  Jewish  people ;  when  they  shall  be 
converted  to  true  spiritual  religion,  and  the  Messiah 
shall  reign  over  them.  Of  this,  I  conceive,  the 
4th  verse,  when  taken  together  with  the  general  turn 
of  prophecy,  furnishes  the  most  convincing  proofs ; 
absolutely  precluding  an  application,  either  to  the 
return  from  Babylon,  or  to  the  first  coming  of  'our 
Lord:  since,  to  this  hour,  the  Jews  are,  with  peculiar 
propriety,  termed  4  forsaken,’  and  their  land  4  de¬ 
solate.’  No  other  event,  then,  remains  to  be  applied 
to  this  prophecy,  but  the  final  redemption  of  Israel. 
Nor  is  this  interpretation  without  the  support  of  the 
best  authorities,  .  .  Vitringa  and  Lowth.  See  the 
notes  of  the  latter  (in  his  Quarto  Edition)  on 
Chap,  xl.,  and,  especially,  on  Chap.  lii.  13.,  where 
there  is  this  decisive  opinion,  .  .  4  Here,  Babylon  is, 
at  once,  dropped ;  and,  I  think,  hardly  ever  comes 
in  sight  again,  .  .  unless,  perhaps,  in  Chap.  lv.  12., 
lvii.  14.  The  Prophet’s  views  are  engrossed,  by 
the  higher  part  of  his  subject.’  p.  237.  Assuming, 
then,  the  spiritual  meaning  of  the  passage,  it  was  my 
purpose,  very  briefly  to  describe  the  Prophet’s  view 


67 


of  Christ’s  future  kingdom ;  and,  as  briefly,  to  state 
its  expansion,  by  our  Lord,  and  his  Apostles, .  .  taking 
in  Gentiles,  as  well  as  Jews  ;  and  to  be  completely 
established  on  earth,  at  that  glorious  time,  when  the 
kingdoms  of  this  world,  shall  become  the  kingdoms 
of  our  Lord  and  of  his  Christ :  and,  however  remote 
may  be  the  completion  of  this  grand  prophetic  scheme, 
however  insignificant  all  human  exertions,  compared 
with  the  stupendous  means,  by  which  the  Almighty 
can,  doubtless,  mature  his  mysterious  purposes,  .  .  we 
are  surely  bound  to  act,  as  labourers,  and  pioneers  in 
the  blessed  work,  of  establishing  righteousness  upon 
earth  ;  to  be  strenuous,  in  converting  the  sinner  from 
the  error  of  his  way;  and,  by  well-directed  exertions, 
to  increase  the  number  of  those,  who  worship  the 
Father  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  To  us,  then,  the  words 
of  Isaiah’s  prophecy  directly  apply ;  for,  so  long  as 
ignorance  and  superstition  debase  our  land,  .  .  so  long 
as  the  pure  precepts,  and  exalted  hopes  of  Christian¬ 
ity,  are  unknown  to  our  poor,  .  .  so  long  as  licen¬ 
tiousness  and  irreligion  profane  our  streets,  and  pollute 
even  the  distant  shades  of  rural  retirement,  a  warning 
voice  will  not  cease  to  exclaim  unto  our  consciences, 
.  .  4  Go  through,  go  through  the  gates,  .  .  prepare 
you  the  way  of  the  people,  .  .  cast  up,  cast  up  the 
high  way,  . .  gather  out  the  stones,  . .  lift  up  a  stand¬ 
ard  for  the  people  !’ 

It  was  something  in  this  manner,  that  I  purposed 
beginning :  not  allegorizing,  but  directly  entering  on 
the  main  subject :  4  Bringing  our  people,  to  the 
knowledge,  love,  and  practice  of  true  religion,  by  a 
dissemination  of  the  Scriptures.’  And  I  a  n  soberly 
and  seriously  of  opinion,  that  the  solemn  proclamation 
of  the  Prophet,  contained  in  the  proposed  text,  is 

f  2 


68 


truly  and  really  addressed  to  all,  who  believe  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  are  his  faithful  followers. 

I  perfectly  acquiesce  in  your  ideas,  respecting  the 
causes  of  neglect.  Certainly,  style  is  a  subordinate 
consideration ;  and  personal  interest  is  the  grand 
object,  the  pivot  on  which  the  whole  should  turn. 
And  this,  whatever  be  my  plan,  I  shall  keep  in  view. 

The  2nd  general  head  I  never  intended,  but  as 
subordinate  to  the  feeling  of  personal  concern  ;  it 
being  my  plan,  previously  to  dwell,  on  the  moral  in¬ 
fluence  of  Scripture,  .  .  and  warmly  to  recommend 
making  provision,  for  giving  the  higher  orders  right 
feelings  of  its  value,  and  of  its  conduciveness  to  hu¬ 
man  happiness.  And,  from  a  few  pages  that  I  send 
you,  which  begin  precisely  at  II.  general,  you  will 
find,  that  I  considered  a  ‘practical  influence  of  Scrip¬ 
ture  on  the  heart,  a  sine  qua  non ,  in  disseminating 
the  Bible  amongst  others.’  By  the  bye,  much  of 
those  pages  was  written,  before  I  received  your 
papers ;  and  the  two  quotations  of  the  ‘  glass,’  and 
the  ‘  cisterns,’  were  my  own  :  though  I  could  not  for¬ 
bear  adopting  two  expressions  of  yours,  .  .  the  word 
assimilative ,  and  the  moral  thirst .  I  am  truly  sen¬ 
sible,  that  the  sheets  I  send,  have  very  little  matter  in 
them  ;  and  are,  every  way,  much  deficient. 

I  regret  much,  that  you  think  the  lecture  imprac¬ 
ticable.  Could  it  be  compassed,  I  have  no  doubt  it 
would  be  highly  useful :  but  you,  who  are  on  the  spot, 
and  are,  in  other  respects,  so  well  qualified  to  judge, 
can  best  determine  how  far  it  would  be  feasible.  The 
omission  of  this  branch  (and  I  clearly  think  it  should 
be  omitted,  if  there  be  no  prospect  of  establishing  a 
lecture)  will  inevitably  oblige  me  to  alter  my  mode 
of  address.  For  the  lecture  served  me  as  a  medium, 
through  which  I  might  address  the  association  them- 


69 


selves,  as  constituting  the  force,  that  would  give 
motion  to  the  whole  machine ;  that  would  set  the 
higher  ranks  at  work,  by  communicating  to  them  a 
power,  derived  from  the  practical  influence  of  Scrip¬ 
ture  on  their  own  hearts ;  and,  through  their  instru¬ 
mentality,  convey  to  the  people,  not  only  the  Scrip- 
tu:  'es,  but  a  feeling  of  their  sovereign  utility. 

You  will  pardon  me  for  thinking,  that  your  text, 
would  not  exactly  suit  the  purpose  in  view.  I  hardly 
think  it  appropriate  to  the  occasion  of  addressing  a 
great  public  body,  on  the  necessity  and  advantage  of 
disseminating  Scripture ;  and  I  conceive,  that,  to 
accord  with  your  views,  it  requires  an  exposition  of 
the  term  salvation ,  not  altogether  suitable  to  the 
context,  or  to  the  usual  acceptation  of  the  word.  I 
say  this,  with  great  diffidence  in  myself,  and  great 
deference  for  your  opinion  ;  but  I  should  not  consider 
it,  either  candid,  or  respectful,  to  object  to  your  text, 
without  assigning  some  reason  ;  and  I  know  your  good 
nature  will  not  impute  to  me,  any  impertinence,  or 
presumption,  for  appearing  to  put  my  opinion  in  com¬ 
petition  with  yours. 

As  it  will  now  be  necessary  for  me  to  reconsider 
the  matter  entirely,  I  should  be  much  obliged  to  you 
to  have  the  day  postponed.  Any  time  in  January 
would  answer.  Indeed,  indisposition,  for  the  last 
month,  completely  unfitted  me  for  almost  any  ex¬ 
ertion.  I  have  had  a  violent  cold,  accompanied 
with  racking  head-aches  j  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  am 
still  under  its  influence.  On  these  grounds,  I  trust 
the  Association  will  consent  to  give  me  a  little  time. 
For,  unfit  as  I  am,  at  any  time,  to  do  justice  to  the 
situation  they  have  placed  me  in,  I  am,  at  present, 
peculiarly  unable  to  do  any  thing.  I  trust  in  God  I 
shall  soon  get  better  ;  but,  at  this  instant,  my  head 

f  3 


70 


aches  so  violently,  that  I  do  not  feel  able  to  say  much 
more,  than  that  I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  much  obliged  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  7- 


Oct.  14.  1802. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

Y our  strong  and  interesting  defence  of  your  text, 
has  had  its  due  effect  on  my  mind.  I  cannot  help 
considering,  that  different  minds,  have  their  different 
modes  of  moving.  And,  if  any  extrinsic  force  should 
obstruct  the  natural  mode,  the  pleasantness  of  the 
progress  is  much  diminished,  if  not  destroyed. 
Your  mind  is  really  a  very  solid  one.  But  it  is,  also, 
a  poetical  one ;  and,  from  this  joint  character,  arises 
a  species  of  composition,  which  demands  materials 
fitted  for  its  own  peculiar  fabric.  A  text  furnishing 
only  plain  maxims,  or  facts,  is,  by  no  means,  the 
thing  for  this  ;  it  must  rather  be  one,  pregnant  in 
vivid  imagery.  Itself  a  picture,  and  exciting  other 
picturesque  ideas,  by,  as  it  were,  lighting  a  train. 

I  cannot,  therefore,  be  the  instrument,  of  making 
such  a  text  as  you  have  chosen,  in  any  respect  un¬ 
fortunate.  And,  on  weighing  what  you  have  written, 
I  cannot  hesitate  to  recommend  to  you,  still  to  keep 
it ;  and  only  alter  the  treatment  of  it,  as  the  com- 
pletest  bringing  forward  of  personal  interest  may 
require.  Do  not  think,  in  this,  I  am  giving  up  my 
opinion,  by  way  of  indulging  yours.  No  truly.  The 
few  words  you  have  said  on  the  text,  have  convinced 

> 


71 


me,  that  it  will  not  only  do  ;  but  may  be  wrought  into 
an  elegant,  and  most  interesting  introduction,  as 
well  as  serve  to  keep  up  the  sequel. 

Whether  it  allude  to  the  return  from  Babylon,  or 
not,  is  really  of  little  moment.  I  rather,  I  think, 
would  assume  that  it  did.  I  looked  only  to  making 
it  fit.  The  Jewish  history  was  typical,  as  well  as 
their  ceremonies.  And,  whatever  is  said  of  their 
captivity,  may  be  applied  to  the  moral  bondage  of 
mankind  ;  as,  whatever  is  said  of  the  deliverances  of 
theWews,  will  certainly  find  correspondencies,  in  the 
Christian  system.  £  Whatsoever  was  written  afore¬ 
time,  was  written  for  our  learning ;  ’  and,  certainly, 
I  own  with  pleasure,  that,  in  this  very  text,  there  is, 
not  only  a  grand  eloquence,  but  a  happy  evangelic 
character ;  which,  in  a  very  great  degree,  if  not 
wholly,  answers  what  I  objected,  about  allegory. 

Every  individual,  who  lives,  in  sin  of  temper,  or 
conduct,  is  in  captivity,  and  needs  a  deliverance ;  to 
which  much  of  the  prophetic  language  concerning 
Israel,  will,  perhaps,  from  direct  divine  intention 
(why  do  I  say  perhaps  ?)  most  appositely  fit.  Every 
portion  of  people,  who  are,  collectively,  in  ignorance  or 
barbarousness,  are,  still  more  literally  and  strikingly, 
in  captivity.  For  both,  the  same  means  of  deliverance 
are  provided.  And,  to  these  means,  all  the  prophetic 
indications  point.  The  completeness  of  their  mean¬ 
ing,  probably,  here,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  embraces 
the  last  triumph  of  the  Messiah,  over  the  moral  evil 
of  the  world :  but  every  step  towards  that  consum¬ 
mation,  must,  substantially,  resemble  the  ultimate 
event ;  because,  the  whole  design  being  moral,  and 
the  means  uniform,  the  means,  between  the  moral 
liberation  of  an  individual,  of  a  people,  of  the  whole 
of  mankind,  must  be  in  gradu  rather  than  in  re, 

f  4 


72 


The  reiteration  in  the  text,  is  exceeding  fine  ;  and, 
if  there  be  even  an  approach  to  allegory,  I  renounce 
all  I  said  of  its  being  uninteresting.  In  some  hands, 
it  might ;  because  it  wiil  require  justice  to  be  done 
to  it.  Be  you  only  as  spirited  in  your  introduction, 
as  you  have  been  in  your  defence,  and  I  venture  to 
promise,  you  will  lose  no  one’s  attention. 

The  first  words  seem  to  imply,  that  they  to  whom 
they  are  spoken,  are  yet  in  the  house  of  bondage. 
But  they  need  not  continue  there.  The  gates  are 
opened  for  them  to  march  forth  ;  but  such  is  their 
perverseness,  that  they  linger  ;  and,  therefore,  we  may 
suppose,  is  the  restoration.  Or,  perhaps  they  have 
another  meaning,  and  certainly  one  more  agreeable 
to  the  tenor  of  the  chapter.  It  is  that  given  by 
Pool,  from  one  Forerius ;  and,  though  he  seems  not 
to  rely  on  it,  I  own  it  appears  to  me  very  plausible. 
4  Hortatur  viros  Israelites,  ut,  exeuntes  per  portas, 
praeparent  itinera  filiis  Dei  dispersis  jam  adventantibus 
Hierosolymam.’  *  It  is  added,  c  quae  certe  nihil  aliud 
significant,  quam,  ex  Jerusalem  ituros  Discipulos 
Domini  per  totum  orbem,  ut  alios  ad  Ecclesiam 
perducant/  t  The  nihil  aliud ,  at  least,  I  protest 
against.  The  passage  may  refer,  to  the  Apostles  going 
forth  from  Jerusalem,  .  .  but  not  only,  nor  chiefly ; 

•  for  the  Jerusalem  here,  is,  the  church.  As  to  any 
final  restoration  of  the  Jews,  to  their  literal  Jerusalem 
(which  might  here  divide,  or  distract,  the  application 
of  the  words  to  Christians),  I  own,  I  more  than 
question  it :  all  that  is  said  about  the  latter  times, 
being,  in  my  humble  opinion,  moral  only;  and,  of 

*  He  exhorts  the  men  of  Israel  to  go  forth  out  of  the  gates,  that  they  may 
prepare  the  way  for  the  dispersed  children  of  God,  now  drawing  near  to  Jerusa¬ 
lem. 

t  Which  certainly  means  nothing  else,  than  that  the  disciples  of  the  Lord  should 
go  forth  throughout  the  world,  in  order  that  they  may  conduct  others  into  the 
Church. 


78 


course,  predicting  no  other  reinstatement  of  the 
Jews,  but  in  the  true  and  spiritual  Jerusalem  :  the 
now  invisible,  but  hereafter  morally  triumphant, 
church  of  Christ.  For  support  of  these  views,  I 
would  refer  to  the  6th  verse ;  which  has,  I  believe, 
been  ever  applied  to  the  Christian  ministry.  Perhaps, 
then,  on  the  whole,  it  may  be  best  to  take  the  words 
in  the  latter  [sense]  ;  and  they  will  be  an  exhortation 
to  all  who  are  already  in  the  spiritual  Jerusalem,  to 
do  all  that  in  them  lies,  to  bring  others  into  it.  The 
nations  are  represented  in  movement  toward  it ;  but 
there  are  obstructions  to  their  progress,  which  they, 
who  are  already  within,  are  called  upon,  with  reiterated 
earnestness,  to  remove.  The  repetition,  calls  forth 
zeal ;  perhaps,  indirectly,  reproves  a  want  of  it.  They 
who  are  citizens  of  the  holy  city,  are  required  to 
do  this  work,  because  they  possess  the  necessary 
qualifications.  Strangers,  coming  amongst  them, 
cannot  make  a  way  for  themselves  ;  the  duty,  the 
necessary  knowledge,  the  materials,  all  must  pertain 
to  the  inhabitants.  How  are  strangers  to  complete 
their  approach  and  entrance,  without  this  ?  Prepare 
the  way  :  that  is,  lay  it  out,  plan  it,  find  out  its  best 
direction,  use  your  best  skill  and  talents,  in  discover¬ 
ing  how  it  may  be  best  done.  Cast  up,  cast  up  the 
high  way  :  that  is,  having  planned,  execute  ;  do  it 
quietly,  and  do  it  effectually.  What  the  way  to  the 
spiritual  Jerusalem  is,  can  admit  of  no  doubt :  it  is 
reformation  of  heart  and  life.  4  A  way  shall  be  there  ; 
and  it  shall  be  called  the  way  of  righteousness ;  and 
the  wayfaring  man,  though  a  fool,  shall  not  err 
therein/  What,  then,  is  the  command  ?  Do  every 
thing  possible  to  reform  the  people, . . 4  Make  straight 
paths  for  their  feet*/  give  them  fit  and  full  instruction; 
4  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way,’  &c. :  and  lead  them  to 


74< 


right  habits. . .  Gather  out  the  stones :  make  it 
pleasant  and  easy  to  them :  let  nothing  remain  to 
deter  them;  but  everything  to  induce  them:  add 
kindness,  to  skill  and  diligence.  Lift  up  a  stand¬ 
ard  :  that  is,  after  all,  furnish  them  with  some  sure 
direction,  toward  which  they  may  look,  and  by 
which  they  are  to  be  guided  toward  their  ultimate 
object. 

If  these  hints  give  you  any  satisfaction,  or  serve  to 
confirm  you  in  your  first  design,  it  will  give  much 
pleasure  to 

Yours  most  truly, 

Alex.  Knox. 

P.  S.  The  postponement,  I  will  attend  to.  The 
above  hints,  are  for  your  amusement  and  consider¬ 
ation,  rather  than  for  any  material  use. 


LETTER  8. 

Oct.  17.  1802. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  hope  you  have  received  my  letter  of  Thursday. 
The  purport  was  to  tell  you,  that  what  you  said, 
actually  inclined  me  to  your  own  first  text :  as  that, 
which,  after  all,  you  could  most  conveniently  manage. 
I  hope  you  have  got  the  letter.  If  you  have,  you 
will  have  had  my  comment  on  the  text.  Yet,  after  all, 
it  is  but  fair  to  say,  that,  though  I  can  well  conceive 
how,  out  of  that  very  energetic  text,  you  would  draw 
exhortations  to  disseminate  the  Scripture  ;  I  do  not 
so  clearly  see,  how  the  personal  part  could  be  deduced. 
Therefore,  once  for  all,  I  say,  consider  all  that  has 


come  from  me,  as  the  merest  materials,  for  your  own 
mind  to  judge  of,  and  determine  upon,  as  you  see 
proper.  For,  I  assure  you,  if  I  could  think,  that 
what  I  wrote  would  sway  you  an  hair-breadth,  against 
your  own  conviction,  I  should  be  very  much  pained 
and  disappointed. 

The  quotation  is  transcendent.  Why  should  you 
not  use  it  ?  But,  undoubtedly,  it  would  fall  in  better, 
with  the  first  psalm,  than  with  that  from  Isaiah. 
The  first  two  verses  of  the  psalm,  might,  if  you  liked 
it,  answer  well :  or  rather,  the  first  four  verses  ;  which 
would  give  your  fancy  tolerable  scope,  from  the  de¬ 
lightful  imagery, . .  lead  you  immediately  to  a  personal 
application,  and  yet  afford  sufficient  room,  for  exhort¬ 
ation  to  the  spiritual  charity.  Indeed,  I  like  your 
query,  and  I  wish  you  would  think  of  it :  though, 
as  I  said  in  my  last,  that  from  Isaiah  is  a  beauti¬ 
ful  passage.  Still,  it  is  not  personal,  like  the  first 
psalm. 

As  to  the  first  psalm,  it  opens  with  one  of  the 
neatest  arrangements  of  thought,  that  I  ever  saw. 

‘  Oh  the  happiness  of  him,  that  hath  not  walked  in 
the  counsel  of  the  ungodly,  and  hath  not  stood  in  the 
way  of  sinners,  and  hath  not  sat  in  the  seat  of  the 
scornful !’  here,  you  will  observe,  is  a  gradation  of 
wickedness.  Ungodly:  .  .  they  who  neglect  religion. 
Sinners  :  .  .  they  who  commit  iniquity.  Scornful :  .  . 
they  who  not  only  neglect  religion,  and  commit  ini¬ 
quity,  but  justify  the  ways  of  vice,  and  calumniate  those 
of  goodness.  To  these,  again,  the  words  betokening 
action,  answer.  Ungodly  :  .  .  he  that  walketh,  .  .  the 
least  fixed.  Sinners  :  . .  he  that  standeth,  . .  more  fixed. 
Scornful  :  .  .  he  that  sitteth.  4  Here  will  I  dwell,’  says 
he,  ‘for  I  have  a  delight  therein.’  4  Nemo  fit  repente 
turpissimus,’  says  Juvenal  I  think.  So  that  verse  tells 


76 


the  progress  of  vice.  He  that  walks,  will  be  apt,  at 
length,  to  stand.  From  standing,  sitting  naturally 
follows.  ‘  Evil  men  and  seducers,’  says  the  Apostle, 
‘  will  wax  worse  and  worse.’  ‘  But  his  delight  is  in  the 
law  of  the  Lord.’  There  it  must  begin.  Except  love 
be  excited,  nothing  is  done  to  purpose.  But,  if  love 
be  there,  it  will  lead  to  the  exercise  there  spoken  of. 
Night,  ever  recurs  to  David’s  mind  ;  because  it  is  then 
the  mind  turns  in  on  itself,  and  feels  its  own  true 
character,  whatever  it  be.  If  a  man  delight  in  God’s 
law,  he  will,  of  course,  not  fail  to  think  of  it  then,  when 
a  subject  of  pleasant  thought,  is  most  pleasing.  It  is 
a  noble  attribute,  which  Job  giveth  to  God :  ‘  Who 
givest  songs  in  the  night.’  How  this  was  verified, 
(to  digress  for  a  moment,)  in  the  case  of  Paul  and  Silas 
in  the  dungeon  1  ‘  He  shall  be  as  a  tree,  planted 

by  the  waters.’  What  a  full  figure  this  is,  you  well 
know  ;  having  no  doubt  read  Bishop  Lowth’slast  note, 
on  the  first  chapter  of  Isaiah.  ‘  Leaf  not  withering,’ 
.  .  is  the  permanency  of  what  is  pleasing  :  as,  ‘  Look, 
whatsoever  he  doeth,  it  shall  prosper,’ .  .  seems  to 
come  in  the  place  of  fruit. 

‘  Neither  the  heat  of  the  sun,’  says  St.  Chrysostom, 

‘  nor  the  unfavourableness  of  the  seasons,  can  injure  a 
tree,  planted  on  the  border  of  a  river  ;  because,  from 
its  situation,  its  root  is  ever  kept  moist.  Just  so, 
a  soul,  that  receives  perpetually  the  influences  of 
grace,  through  the  channels  of  the  Holy  Scripture,  is 
proof  against  all  accidents,  and  suffers  with  courage, 
all  the  inconveniences  of  life  :  diseases,  injuries, 
calumnies,  be  the  evils  what  they  may,  it  finds  its 
consolation  in  the  Scripture. 

‘Fortune,  glory,  success,  friends,  must  all  yield  to 
the  holy  Scripture,  in  the  successful  banishing  of 
sorrow  of  heart.  The  best  things  of  life  are  perish- 


77 


able,  and  subject  to  change :  of  course,  the  comfort 
that  they  afford,  can  be  transient  only,  like  themselves. 
But  one  may  always  converse  with  God,  by  means  of 
the  Scripture,  and  obtain  therefrom  that  peace,  which 
the  world  can  neither  give,  nor  take  away.’ 

I  really  think  with  some  regret,  on  the  trouble  I 
shall  have  caused  you  ;  when,  probably,  had  you  gone 
on  in  your  own  way,  people  would  have  been  well 
enough  satisfied.  You  will,  however,  forgive  me,  for 
my  motive’s  sake ;  which  certainly  was,  that  you 
should  ‘  please  all,  for  good  to  edification.’ 

Farewell,  I  will  take  care  about  the  postponement. 

Believe  me,  most  truly  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  XIV. 

To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 

S.  Bar,  Oct.  25.  1802. 

My  dear  Sir, 

X  should  have  written  to  you  early  in  the  last  week, 
but  that  I  did  not  receive  yours  of  the  14th,  till 
Thursday  last,  when  I  was  obliged  to  go,  for  two  or 
three  days,  to  Enniskillen.  Notwithstanding  your 
kind  reception  of  my  defence,  I  now  feel  strongly 
inclined  to  give  up  the  text  from  Isaiah.  In  good 
hands,  it  certainly  would  afford  room  for  a  very  ani¬ 
mated  introduction ;  and  would,  perhaps,  in  every 
respect,  be  well  adapted  to  a  sermon,  whose  sole  ob¬ 
ject  was  exhortation  :  but  I  am  so  completely  a  con- 


78 


vert  to  your  opinion,  that  personal  interest,  is  a 
necessary  foundation  on  which  to  build,  that  I  think 
it  essential,  that  the  text  should  naturally  lead  to 
personal  application.  That  from  Isaiah,  does  not : 
the  first  psalm  does :  and  then,  ‘  bringeth  forth 
fruit  in  due  season,’ .  .  c  And  look  whatsoever  he 
doeth  it  shall  prosper,’ .  .  afford  room  for  exhortation 
to  disseminate  the  Scriptures ;  and  for  an  estimate  of 
the  advantages,  almost  inevitably  derivable  from  doing 
so.  The  admirable  arrangement  of  thought  in  the 
1st  verse,  you  had  the  goodness  to  point  out  to  me 
one  day,  in  Dawson  Street,  before  I  entered  into 
orders ;  and  I  availed  myself  of  your  hints,  in  a  ser¬ 
mon  I  preached  here.  On  the  present  occasion,  per¬ 
haps,  on  your  own  principle  of  going  at  once  ‘  in 
medias  res,’  it  might  be  well  to  leave  out  verse  1.,  as 
not  immediately  bearing  upon  the  grand  point ;  and 
to  make  the  second  and  third  verses,  (as  they  stand 
in  the  Bible  translation)  the  text. 

According  to  my  present  view  of  the  subject,  after 
opening  the  text,  should  follow,  a  proof  of  the  power 
of  Scripture  to  confer  happiness;  including  a  con¬ 
trasted  view  of  the  insufficiency  of  philosophy;  all 
this  as  personal  as  possible  :  then,  appeal  to  the  audi¬ 
ence,  whether  they  have  made  the  proper  use,  of  the  rich 
treasure  given  to  them  :  not  sufficient  that  they  should 
read  Scripture, . .  their  ‘  delight  must  be  in  the  law  of 
the  Lord  :  ’  if  they  have  experienced  this  delight, 
they  must  be  anxious  to  communicate  it  to  others  : 
let  them  look  around,  not  merely  at  the  poor,  but  at 
the  rich,  and  they  will  see  the  want  of  happiness 
which  prevails  .  .  they  must  labour  to  bring  their 
friends,  &c.  to  a  sense  of  the  supreme  efficacy  of 
Scripture  . .  and  hence,  if  higher: orders  in  general  are 


79 


made  fond  of  the  sacred  Volume,  they  will  give  it  to 
the  poor.  This  is  a  very  rough,  and  very  curt  view, 
of  what  I  now  think  on  the  subject :  *  but,  I  believe, 
that  an  arrangement  somewhat  of  this  nature,  is  what 
you  would  recommend.  On  the  subject  both  of  the 
Old  Testament  and  the  New,  I  have  made  some 
little  collections,  tending  to  show  the  happy  effects, 
qn  the  sentiments  and  conduct,  of  a  matter-of-fact 
view  of  God’s  attributes ;  and,  also,  some  instances 
of  the  use  made  by  Scripture  characters,  in  different 
situations,  of  the  word  of  God.  One  remarkable  in¬ 
stance,  I  think,  is,  that  Jonah’s  prayer,  is,  in  a  great 
measure,  a  Cento  from  the  Psalms. 

< — 

To  the  efficacy  of  a  matter-of-fact  view  of  God, 
Lord  Shaftesbury  seems  to  bear  testimony. 

4  If  there  be  a  belief^  or  conception,  of  a  Deity,  who 
is  considered  as  worthy  and  good,  and  admired  and 
reverenced  as  such  ;  being  understood  to  have,  be¬ 
sides  mere  power  and  knowledge,  the  highest  excel¬ 
lence  of  nature,  such  as  renders  him  justly  amiable  to 
all :  and  if,  in  the  manner  this  sovereign  and  mighty 
being  is  represented ,  or  as  he  is  historically  described , 
there  appears  in  him,  a  high  and  eminent  regard  to 
what  is  good  and  excellent ;  a  concern  for  the  good 
of  all ;  and  an  affection  of  benevolence  and  love  to 
the  whole ;  .  .  such  an  example  must,  undoubtedly, 
serve,  to  raise  and  increase  the  affections  towards 
virtue,  and  to  help  to  subdue  all  other  affections,  to 
that  alone. 

4  Nor  is  this  good  effected,  by  example  merely. 
For,  when  the  theistical  belief  is  entire  and  perfect, 

*  Upon  maturer  consideration,  Bishop  Jebb’s  views,  respecting  the  indiscri¬ 
minate  dissemination  of  the  Bible,  became  materially  modified ;  as  may  be  seen 
in  his  (  Sermons  on  Subjects  chiefly  practical,’  at  the  opening  of  Sermon  viii.  ; 
and  in  the  Appendix  to  that  volume,  passim.  .  .  Ed, 


80 


there  must  be  a  steady  opinion  of  the  superintendency 
of  a  Supreme  Being  ;  a  witness  and  spectator  of 
human  life  ;  and  conscious  of  whatsoever  is  felt,  or 
acted,  in  the  universe.  So  that,  in  the  perfectest 
recess,  or  deepest  solitude,  there  must  be  one  still 
presumed  remaining  with  us  ;  whose  presence,  singly, 
must  be  of  more  moment,  than  that  of  the  most 
august  assembly  on  earth.’  Charact.  vol.  ii.  p.56,  5J. 

I  much  regret,  my  dear  Sir,  that  you  should  ex¬ 
perience  a  moment’s  uneasiness,  at  having  induced 
me  to  reconsider  my  plan.  I  can  assure  you,  that 
your  papers  have  led  me  into  a  train  of  thought, 
which  I  trust  will  be  essentially  serviceable  to  the 
sermon.  And,  if  it  should  please  God  to  spare  me, 
I  can  possibly,  at  some  future  occasion,  use  the  now 
rejected  text  from  Isaiah  ;  which  I  think  too  good 
to  be  lost.  If  it  should  ever  fall  to  my  lot  to  preach 
a  visitation  sermon,  it  might  answer:  particularly, 
taking  the  6th  verse,  as  applying  to  the  Christian 
ministry. 

I  am  much  indebted  to  you  for  the  trouble  you  have 
taken,  in  having  the  day  postponed ;  and,  also,  to  Mr. 
Maturin,  for  his  exertions  :  and  as,  through  your 
means,  I  have  gained  so  much  time,  I  do  not  see  how 
it  is  possible  to  resist  your  joint  application.  Your 
hinting  a  wish  on  the  subject,  I  will  confess,  Would  be 
(for,  ought  it  not?)  sufficient  to  make  me  do  much 
more  than  this.  But  you  may  be  assured,  that,  in 
the  present  instance,  there  will  be  no  inconvenience 
attached  to  my  preaching  St.  Peter’s  sermon,  be¬ 
sides  what  arises  from  the  difficulty  of  saying  any 
thing  new  on  the  subject :  but  I  trust  due  allowances 
will  be  made.  I  suppose  Mr.  Maturin  will  have  the 
goodness  to  provide,  that  I  shall  be  furnished  with 


81 


the  necessary  materials,  in  point  of  information,  &c.  in 
proper  time. 

*  #  #  #  # 

#  #  #  *  # 

Believe  me,  dear  Sir,  most  truly  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  9. 

Oct.  28.  1802. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  certainly  am  not  sorry  that  you  have  settled  on 
so  excellent  a  text.  It  is  every  way  to  your  purpose; 
and  I  entirely  agree  with  you,  that  the  analysis  of 
the  first  verse,  would  rather  perplex,  than  aid,  your 
entrance  into  the  main  subject.  But  I  must  submit 
to  you,  whether,  if  you  were  not  to  commence  your 
discourse,  with  adverting  to  the  first  word  of  the  first 
verse,  you  would  not  lose  a  valuable,  indeed,  rather, 
an  invaluable  topic ;  and  peculiarly  happy  for  an 
exordium,  6  O  the  happiness  of  that  man,’  &c. 

Says  Horace,  .  . 

navibus  atque 

Quadrigis  petimus  bene  vivere,  quod  petis,  hie  est.* 

What  all  the  world  has  been  looking  for  in  vain,  is 
here  brought  into  narrow  bounds.  He,  who  delights, 

6  in  that  law  of  the  Lord,  which  is  perfect,  convert¬ 
ing  the  soul,  .  .  in  that  testimony  of  the  Lord,  which 
is  sure,  making  wise  the  simple,  .  .  in  those  statutes 
of  the  Lord,  which  are  right,  rejoicing  the  heart,  .  . 
in  that  commandment  of  the  Lord,  which  is  pure, 

*  By  sea  and  land  we  seek  true  bliss  to  find  : 

Vain  search  !  true  bliss  is  centred  in  the  mind. 

VOL.  I.  G 


82 


enlightening  the  eyes/  .  .  cannot  but  be  happy, 
because,  his  relish  is  in  unison  with  eternal  order; 
his  mind  is  recreated,  with  all  the  highest  harmonies 
of  nature ;  his  gratification  is  not  only  inexhaustible, 
but  ever  increasing.  His  happiness  is  infallible, 
because  it  is  liable  to  no  vicissitude,  and  to  no 
end.  It  cannot  be  questioned,  that  there  are  great 
pleasures,  in  the  higher  congruities,  even  of  the 
senses.  He,  for  instance,  who  has  a  taste  for  music, 
is  often  so  enraptured  with  it,  as  to  devote  his  life  to 
it.  He  that  delights  in  the  picturesque,  would 
hardly  relinquish  the  pleasure  he  feels.  What,  then, 
must  be  the  enjoyment  of  that  mind,  whose  taste  is 
turned  to  that,  which  is  the  transcript  of  eternal 
rectitude,  wisdom,  and  goodness ;  and  who,  in  thus 
relishing,  is  himself  assimilated,  more  and  more,  to 
that  which  he  loves ;  growing,  thereby,  more  and 
more  like  eternal  excellence ;  and,  consequently, 
approaching,  as  it  were,  still  nearer  and  nearer  that 
infinite  perfection,  which  it  is  the  happiness  of  the 
highest  intelligences  ever  to  advance  toward,  without 
it  being  possible  ever  to  reach  it.  The  fine  eulogium 
of  law,  given  by  Hooker,  in  the  latter  end  of  his 
first  book  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  would  be  ap¬ 
plicable  ;  but,  perhaps,  is  too  well  known. 

The  passage  from  Shaftesbury,  is  certainly  very 
good.  But  his  style  is  always  unpleasant  to  me  ;  for 
it  has  no  fluency.  At  least,  it  seems  so  to  me.  I 
do  not  know  but  Voltaire  has  treated  the  same 
subject,  with  more  striking  simplicity. 

*  Newton/  says  he,  ‘  was  intimately  persuaded  of 
the  existence  of  a  God  ;  meaning  by  that  word,  not 
only  an  infinite  being,  almighty,  eternal,  the  creator, 

.  .  but  a  master,  who  has  established  a  relation 
between  himself  and  his  creatures  ;  for,  without  this 


83 


relation,  the  knowledge  of  a  God  is  but  sterile.  Thus, 
this  great  philosopher,  makes  a  singular  remark,  at 
the  end  of  his  Principia.  4  One  does  not,9  he  ob¬ 
serves,  ‘say,  my  eternal,  or  my  infinite  ;  because  these 
attributes  have  nothing  of  relation  to  us  in  them : 
but  we  say  ‘my God; 9  understanding,  thereby,  the 
master  and  preserver  of  our  life,  and  the  object  of 
our  minds  and  thoughts.9  .  .  ‘  I  remember,9  adds 
Voltaire,  ‘that,  in  several  conferences  which  I  had, 
in  the  year  1726,  with  Dr.  Clarke,  that  philosopher 
never  pronounced  the  name  of  God,  but  with  an  air 
of  recollection  and  reverence.  I  remarked  to  him, 
the  impression  that  it  made  on  me  ;  and  he  told  me,  it 
was  from  Newton,  he  had  insensibly  caught  that  habit ; 
which,  in  fact,  ought  to  be  the  habit  of  all  men.9 

I  quote  this  from  a  French  work  of  M.  de  la 
Flechi&re,  (Mr.  Wesley’s  friend)  :  he  quotes  it  from 
Voltaire’s  elements  of  Newton’s  philosophy. 

I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  about  Saint  Peter’s 
sermon.  But  truly,  my  good  friend,  if  I  thought, 
that  my  making  a  request  of  you,  could  ever  lead 
you  to  do  any  matter,  that  was  not  perfectly  agreeable 
to  yourself,  you  surely  never  could  receive  a  wish 
from  me ;  and,  therefore,  my  worthy  Mr.  Jebb,  your 
parenthesis  says  quite  too  much  ;  and  do  not  ever  let 
such  a  word  again  escape  you.  Indeed,  my  friend, 
you  owe  much  to  God  Almighty ;  but  you  owe  no¬ 
thing  to  me.  It  is  my  honour  to  have  a  little  handed 
forward,  to  a  man  capable  of  appreciating ;  and,  as 
such  only,  will  I  acknowledge  my  incidental  inter¬ 
ference.  So  talk  no  more  of  such  matters. 

Remember,  also,  when  I  write  you  any  thoughts, 
you  never  are  to  use  one  of  them,  but  merely  when 
you  think  you  may  turn  them  to  some  purpose. 
For,  I  assure  you,  I  throw  them  out,  never  to  ask 

g  2 


84 


about  them  again  ;  and  I  have  done  so  with,  perhaps, 
more  valuable  ones,  .  .  at  least  in  a  curious  point  of 
view,  but  not  in  a  practical  one,  .  .  than  any  I  have 
given  you.  But  I  give  you  what  strikes  me,  on  the 
express  condition,  that  you  are  to  be  as  careless  about 
them,  as  if  they  had  never  reached  you ;  except, 
merely,  where  it  will  be  to  your  advantage. 

Yours  always, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  XV. 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq. 


Swanlinbar,  Dec.  21.  1802. 

My  dear  Sir, 

X  purposely  deferred  answering  your  last,  till  I 
should  be  able  to  report  some  progress  in  the  sermon. 
I  have  now  brought  it  very  nearly  to  a  conclusion ; 
not,  however,  by  any  means,  to  my  own  satisfaction.  I 
fear  it  will  be  too  long;  though,  in  many  parts,  I 
have,  perhaps,  condensed  too  much.  When  I  go  to 
town,  I  shall  trespass  on  your  goodness,  to  point  out 
to  me  what  parts  I  shall  omit ;  and,  even  if  some 
little  addition  should  be  expedient,  I  hope  to  have  a 
few  days  to  make  it. 

I  thank  you  much,  for  your  critical  quotations. 
They  were,  to  me,  entirely  satisfactory.  In  the  3d 
verse,  I  should  rather  think,  Mr.  Street  uses  too  great 
license  in  his  translation.  Dr.  Hammond  has,  indeed, 
clearly  proved,  that  the  verb  in  the  sentence  should 
be  so  translated,  as  to  continue  the  metaphor.  The 
same  verb,  is  frequently  applied  to  trees,  when 


85 


no  metaphor  is  intended.  Thus,  Isaiah,  v.  4.,  ‘  I 
looked,  that  it  should  bring  forth  grapes,  and  it 
brought  forth  wild  grapes.’  And,  again,  Isaiah, 
xxx vii.  31.,  ‘  And  it  shall  bear  fruit  upward.’ 

In  the  New  Testament,  a  similar  phrase  frequently 
occurs. . .  xctp7rov  7 rfHsiv.  St.  Matt.  iii.  8.  and  10,  &c. 
The  passage,  therefore,  I  would  translate,  ‘whatsoever 
it  produceth,  shall  prosper.’  Hammond,  is,  I  think, 
judicious  and  elegant,  on  this  thought:  all  the  pro¬ 
duce  is  intended  :  . .  bud,  blossom,  and  fruit ;  answer- 
able  to  thoughts,  resolutions,  and  actions. 

I  have  seen  and  read,  with  much  pleasure,  your 
letter  to  Mr.  Walker.  Dr.  Hales  had  the  goodness  to 
show  it  to  me.  He  was  extremely  gratified  with  it. 
What  I  particularly  admire  in  it,  is,  that,  whilst  you 
abundantly  establish  every  thing  you  contend  for,  you 
do  it  with  all  meekness  and  gentleness.  There  is 
none  of  the  gall  of  controversy  in  your  book.  What 
extremely  odd  opinions,  poor  Walker  has  imbibed.  I 
did  not  think,  that  the  highest  Calvinism  went  so 
far.  My  friend  W.  gave  me  an  account  of  a  sermon, 
he  heard  him  preach  lately,  at  the  Bethesda;  in 
which,  he  roundly  asserted,  that  all  arminians,  and 
the  larger  proportion  of  calvinists,  were  worshipping 
the  Devil !  Is  it  certain  that  his  brain  is  sound  ? 

I  have  been,  at  times,  much  impeded  in  my  busi¬ 
ness,  by  nervous  headaches  ;  otherwise,  I  should  have 
finished  the  Association  sermon  long  since.  All  the 
attention  I  could  give,  to  any  thing  serious,  has  been 
bestowed  on  it.  But  I  hope,  next  week,  to  enter  on 
that  for  St.  Peter’s.  I  have  thoughts  of  making  use 
of  the  rejected  text  from  Isaiah ;  as  I  have  some  ideas 
connected  with  it,  not  inapplicable  to  the  occasion. 
But,  as  I  have  abundant  time  to  work  upon  another, 
I  should  be  exceedingly  obliged  to  you,  to  tell  me, 

g  3 


86 


candidly,  whether  you  think  it  will  answer.  Jf  it 
would  not,  perhaps  you  could  suggest  one.  The 
road  of  charity  sermons  is  so  beaten,  that  I  could 
wish  for  a  text,  that  would  give  room  for  a  striking 
introduction. 

I  am  frequently  ashamed,  when  I  consider  the 
egotism  of  my  letters  to  you.  But,  as  they  are  gener¬ 
ally  applications  for  instruction  and  advice,  egotism 
is  not  wholly  avoidable.  I  rely  on  your  goodness, 
so  often  tried,  to  excuse  both  this  fault,  and  the 
trouble  I  occasion  you. 

*  <  ,.t  Believe  me,  dear  Sir, 

Most  truly  and  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  10. 


Dec.  28.  1802 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  received  your  letter,  on  Christmas  day,  in  my 
bed ;  not  being  able  to  rise,  in  consequence  of  bilious 
sickness,  until  after  the  post  hour. 

As  to  your  charity  sermon,  I  fear  the  text  in 
Isaiah  would  be  too  far  about.  I  happened  to  be 
looking  into  a  pamphlet,  sent  me  a  day  or  two  before 
from  London ;  and  I  thought  I  saw  some  topics, 
which  would  furnish  a  good  body,  for  such  a  dis¬ 
course. 

4  No  large  community  can  long  subsist,  without  a 
considerable  part  of  its  members  being  destined,  to 
laborious  situations,  and  dependent  circumstances : 
it  cannot  long  subsist,  without  food  and  clothing ; 


87 


and  these  cannot  be  attained  without  labour;  and 
men,  generally,  will  not  labour,  but  upon  the  urgency 
of  necessity.  If  every  man  was  provided  with  a  stock 
of  the  necessaries  of  life,  and  had  wealth  to  purchase 
them,  we  should  see  few  shuttles  in  motion,  and  few 
ploughs  turning  up  the  soil,  till  the  time  came,  when, 
having  wasted  their  resources,  distress  would  compel, 
some  to  the  loom,  others  to  the  field.’ 

c  In  a  civilized  state,  besides  food  and  clothing, 
much  domestic  service  is  necessary ;  of  which  a  great 
part  being  neither  elegant,  nor  unlaborious,  will  not 
commonly  be  performed,  by  those  who  can  avoid  it : 
which  all  may  do,  who  are  under  no  immediate  pres¬ 
sure,  or  fear,  of  want.  Therefore,  without  such  a 
degree  of  indigence  in  society,  as  may  dispose  some 
to  undergo  the  daily  drudgery  of  life  ;  and  such  a 
degree  of  affluence,  as  may  enable  others  to  reward 
them  for  it ;  we  could  expect  to  find  but  little,  either 
of  domestic  neatness  or  comfort.  Want,  in  the  poli¬ 
tical  machine,  is  the  weight  necessary  to  keep  it  in 
motion  ;  and  all  that  can,  or  ought  to  be  done,  is  duly 
to  regulate  it.’ 

‘  Hence,  it  will  follow,  that,  to  preserve  society  from 
sinking  into  its  savage  state,  in  which  every  man  must 
be  content  to  fish  and  hunt  for  himself,  and  to  wear 
the  skin  of  the  beast  he  has  slain,  a  large  proportion 
of  the  people  must  depend  for  their  subsistence,  on 
the  toils  of  husbandry  or  useful  manufactures,  and 
domestic  service  :  which  implies  the  relation  of  master 
and  servant,  .  .  of  those,  who  have  nothing  but  their 
labour  to  bring  to  market ;  and  of  those,  who  come, 
with  a  price  in  their  hands,  to  purchase  it.’ 

Now,  I  cannot  help  thinking,  that  the  above  para¬ 
graphs  contain  a  very  satisfactory  view,  oi\  at  least, 
the  political,  final  cause  of  poverty.  And,  I  conceive, 

G  4 

f 

V* 


88 


might  be  expanded  into  a  much  larger  detail,  of 
the  benefits  arising,  to  the  higher  classes,  from  this 
providential  arrangement.  In  short,  to  this  arrange¬ 
ment,  the  higher  classes,  as  such,  owe  their  civil 
existence. 

The  text,  then,  out  of  which  such  remarks  might 
best  grow,  would,  perhaps,  be,  Deut.  xv.  11.  ‘The 
poor  shall  never  cease  out  of  the  land.  Therefore,  I 
command  thee,  saying,  Thou  shalt  open  thy  hands 
wide  unto  thy  brother  :  to  thy  poor,  and  to  thy  needy, 
in  thy  land.’ 

‘  The  poor  shall  never  cease,’  &c. . .  Why?  because 
the  ceasing  of  poverty,  would  be  taking  the  weight 
off  the  great  machine  ;  and  because  the  ceasing  of 
the  poor,  would  be  the  annihilation  of  all  the  in¬ 
strumental  agency,  subserving  to  civil  comfort.  Is 
not,  then,  such  an  appointment,  worthy  of  eternal 
wisdom  ? 

The  luxuries  of  the  great,  as  to  personal  comfort, 
might  be  dispensed  with ;  but,  in  a  civil  and  political 
light,  they,  too,  have  their  use :  yea,  and  in  a  moral 
light  also.  But  even  those  conveniences,  which  we 
must  all  value,  the  accommodations  of  our  houses  and 
our  persons,  of  our  sedentary  and  our  active  hours, 
the  food  we  eat,  the  cloaths  we  wear,  every  thing,  in 
short,  which  forms  our  extrinsic  comfort,  flows  to  us 
from  that  providential  adjustment  of  continued 
poverty. 

But  this  is  not  all :  from  the  same  source  arose  our 
fathers’  leisure,  as  our  own ;  and,  hence,  how  infinite 
our  intellectual  blessings  !  Who,  of  an  enlarged 
mind,  would  willingly  relinquish  the  happiness  of  an 
improved,  and  exercised  understanding  ?  What  lover 
of  science,  what  admirer  of  classic  elegance  and 
simplicity,  what  inquirer  into  the  moral  relations 


89 


between  man  and  man,  and  between  man  and  hisGod, 
would  be  willing  to  have  all,  at  once,  swept  from  his 
mind,  by  a  dark,  vacant,  and  everlasting  oblivion  ? 
Yet,  if  these  are  blessings,  they,  also,  are  chiefly  owing 
to  the  same  cause,  which,  by  the  permanent  stimu¬ 
lation  of  want,  has  roused  mankind  from  indolence, 
into  that  series  of  exertions,  which  has  given  rise  to 
all  the  rest. 

Pater  ipse  colendi 

Haud  facilem  esse  viam  voluit,  prirrmsque  per  artem 

Movit  agros,  curis  acuens  mortalia  co  * 

With  what  just  and  gracious  fitness,  then,  is  the 
subsequent  command  given !  How  becoming  the 
source  of  goodness  and  happiness  !  Every  humane 
mind  hears  with  pleasure,  that  other  injunction, 

4  Thou  shalt  not  muzzle  the  ox,  that  treadeth  out 
the  corn  but  this,  resting  on  the  same  ground  of 
justice,  rises  far  above  it  in  importance.  The  very 
terms  are  exquisitely  suitable.  4  Therefore,  I  com¬ 
mand  thee  in  no  instance  is  the  language  more 
authoritative.  As  if  he  had  said,  . .  The  existence  of 
poverty  is  my  direct,  and  special  appointment,  as 
being  indispensable  to  your  civil  welfare.  Therefore, 
on  the  fairest  principle,  1  enjoin  a  just  acknowledge¬ 
ment  of  that  benefit.  You  are  to  be  the  daily  objects 
of  my  bounty ;  and  the  chief  of  that  bounty  shall  be 
conveyed  to  you,  through  the  instrumentality  of  the 
poor.  You  owe  me  a  return  for  this  bounty ;  and 
they,  who  are  my  instruments,  in  giving,  are  my  ap¬ 
pointed  agents,  for  receiving  :  4  Therefore,  I  com¬ 
mand  thee.5 


*  Heaven  first  taught  husbandmen  to  plough  the  soil, 
Ordaining  man  should  till  the  earth  with  toil, 
Sharp’ning  the  heart  by  salutary  cares. 


90 


But  there  is,  in  addition  to  this,  a  natural  tie.  It 
is  not  for  one  of  another  nature,  or  other  feelings,  I 
am  solicitous  ;  it  is  thy  brother  to  whom  I  enjoin 
thee  to  open  thy  hand,  .  .  to  whom  thou  oughtest  to 
be  kind,  if  for  this  reason  only,  because  you  are,  ‘  of 
one  blood/  . .  creatures  of  like  passions.  Thy  own 
weaknesses  and  wants,  therefore,  are  so  many  ad¬ 
vocates  within  thee,  for  his.  But  he  is,  ‘  thy  poor, 
and  thy  needy,  in  thy  land.’  This  returns  to  the 
main  argument,  the  civil  connexion  between  the  rich 
and  poor.  He  is  an  appendage  to  thy  civil  existence, 

.  .  a  necessary  part  of  the  great  body.  *  The  body 
is  not  one  member,  but  many.  If  the  whole  body 
were  an  eye,  where  were  the  hearing  ?  if  the  whole 
body  were  hearing,  where  were  the  smelling  ?  and  if 
they  were  all  one  member,  where  were  the  body? 
The  eye,  therefore,  cannot  say  unto  the  hand,  I  have 
no  need  of  thee  :  nor,  again,  the  head  to  the  feet,  I 
have  no  need  of  you.  Nay,  much  more,  those 
members  of  the  body,  which  seem  to  be  more  feeble, 
are  more  necessary/  The  poor,  then,  being,  as  it 
were,  the  hands  and  feet  of  the  body  politic,  it  is 
most  fitly  said,  4  thy  poor,  and  thy  needy/  They  are 
one  with  their  superiors,  as  to  unity  of  action.  They 
should  be  one,  therefore,  in  just  sustenance;  in  sym¬ 
pathetic  tenderness ;  and  in  every  instance  of  re¬ 
quisite  care.  This  is  the  voice  of  reason,  of  interest, 
of  nature,  and  of  God.  ‘Thou  shalt  open  thine 
hand  wide  unto  thy  brother/ 

Various  are  the  duties,  which  this  command  em¬ 
braces.  But  none,  more  peculiarly,  or  distinctly,  than 
in  meeting  their  opening  wants  and  weaknesses ; 
and  fitting  them,  betimes,  for  sustaining  their  lot, 
with  credit  and  comfort.  It  is  the  great  end  of  all 
the  divine  dispensations,  to  diffuse,  and  heighten 


91 


happiness.  But,  in  this  lower  world,  God  has  been 
pleased,  as  it  were,  to  abridge  his  own  power,  as  to 
direct  exercise  ;  and  to  commit,  in  a  great  degree,  to 
man’s  agency,  the  executing  of  his  beneficial  pur¬ 
poses  ;  as  if  every  blessing  here,  were  to  be  conveyed 
in  the  way  of  mediation.  What,  therefore,  must  be 
the  divine  complacency,  when  he  beholds  his  adorable 
design  in  progress,  in  consequence  of  an  harmonious 
co-operation,  of  all  the  different  agencies.  To  supply 
physical  wants,  is,  as  has  been  stated,  the  function  of 
the  poor.  To  manufacture  and  distribute  mental,  in¬ 
tellectual,  and  moral  comfort,  is  the  high  allotment 
of  superior  classes.  God  has  so  ordered  matters,  that 
the  former  function  is  steadily  performed.  But,  what 
a  reckoning  will  the  rich  and  great  have,  if  they  do 
not  perform  theirs !  What  are  God’s  final  designs,  as 
to  human  society,  he  has  not  fully  revealed.  But, 
universality  of  moral  happiness  is  intimated.  The 
progress,  however,  is  awfully  committed,  in  a  great 
degree,  as  already  hinted,  to  society  itself.  We  have 
made  some  progress,  doubtless.  Two  thousand  years 
ago,  what  were  these  islands  ?  who,  then,  can  say, 
how  far  civilization  might  be  carried  ?  But  we  do  yet 
know  and  feel,  in  this  less  happy  island  particularly, 
what  the  evils  of  barbarism  are ;  and  how  can  we  so 
remove  them,  as  by  the  very  duty  of  this  day  ?  To 
multiply  moral  and  religious  mechanists,  servants,  and 
labourers,  is  the  only  way  we  can,  at  present,  leaven 
the  lump.  And,  so  sure  as  we  faithfully  endeavour, 
God  will  bless. 

Such,  my  good  friend,  are  the  crude  hints,  of  a 
less  common  kind,  which  have  occurred  to  me.  Use, 
or  not,  just  as  suits.  Whatever  I  send  you,  is  always 
yours  to  throw  by,  just  as  much  as  to  take  up.  What 
you  say  of  my  little  work,  is  gratifying  to  me.  I  did 


92 


not  forget  you  ;  but  there  has  been  an  omission,  either 
at  the  post  office,  or  the  castle. 

Most  truly  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  XVI. 
To  A .  Knox ,  Esq . 


Cashel,  Jan.  24.  1804. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  this  morning  wrote  a  longer  letter,  which  I  intended 
for  you  ;  but  which,  through  inadvertence,  I  suffered 
to  take  fire,  while  I  was  in  the  act  of  sealing  it.  And, 
therefore,  I  have  now  my  labour  to  begin  again.  If 
there  be  any  thing  like  local  influence,  I  fear  my 
epistle  will  not  be  mended :  this  morning  I  wrote,  in 
the  old  and  precious  library*:  now,  I  am  in  my 
bedchamber,  not  entirely  undisturbed  by  the  noise  of 
carpenters,  putting  up  bookshelves,  in  my  sitting 
room.  However,  I  feel  sincere  pleasure  in  the  con¬ 
viction,  that,  when  I  wrote  in  the  morning,  it  was  not 
under  the  influence  of  a  mere  transient  April  gleam 
of  mental  sunshine.  I  then  said,  ‘  I]  will  candidly 
own  to  you,  that,  at  my  first  coming  down  here,  my 
spirits  were  low.  But,  God  be  thanked,  I  have  not 
found  myself  in  a  more  cheerful  frame  of  mind,  for 
many  months,  than  I  am,  at  this  moment.  And  it  is 
pleasant,  that  this  change  is  produced,  not  in  society, 

*  The  diocesan  library,  at  Cashel :  the  munificent  bequest  of  Archbishop 
Bolton,  . ,  Ed. 


93 


nor  in  consequence  of  any  thing  worldly,  but  in  the 
midst  of  good  old  books ;  partly,  I  believe,  through 
their  influence,  and  primarily,  I  humbly  hope,  through 
the  influence  of  a  far  higher  agency/  What  I  then 
wrote,  I  am  happy  to  give  you,  as  my  present  feel¬ 
ing  :  join,  with  me,  my  good  friend,  in  humble 
prayers,  that  it  may  be  permanent.  I  And  myself 
called  to  the  care  of  a  small,  but  uninstructed  flock ; 
and,  therefore,  I  hope,  that,  when  I  am  settled,  I  shall 
find  a  sufflciency  of  active  employment.  The  number 
of  my  parishioners  is  so  limited,  that  I  hope  to  see, 
almost  every  family,  every  week ;  and  their  present 
ignorance,  I  have  every  reason  to  imagine,  so  great, 
that  there  will  be  a  Aeld  for  exertion  among  them. 
I  rejoice  that  my  situation  is  such,  as  to  exclude  all 
temptations  to  public  display;  and,  consequently,  I 
trust,  most  of  the  danger  of  seeking  popular  com¬ 
mendation.  I  conceive  it  peculiarly  fortunate,  that, 
by  a  decent  management  of  time,  in  my  present 
limited  sphere,  I  shall  have  much  leisure  to  prepare 
for  a  more  extensive  one  ;  should  Providence  ever  be 
pleased  to  call  me  to  it.  I  feel,  and  I  apply,  the  sage 
observation  of  Bishop  Hall,  now  before  me.  ‘  It  is 
commonly  seen,  that  boldness  puts  men  forth  before 
their  time,  before  their  ability.  Wherein  we  have 
seen  many,  that,  (like  lapwings  and  partridges,)  have 
run  away,  with  some  part  of  their  shell,  upon  their 
heads.  Whence,  it  follows,  that,  as  they  began  boldly, 
so  they  proceed  unproAtably,  and  conclude,  not  with¬ 
out  shame.  I  would  rather  be  haled,  by  force  of 
others,  to  great  duties,  than  rush  upon  them  unbidden. 
It  were  better  a  man  should  want  work ;  than  that 
great  works  should  want  a  man,  answerable  to  their 
weight/  When  I  look  back  to  the  last  eighteen 
months  of  my  life,  and,  at  the  same  time,  seriously 


94 


consider  these  wise  and  pious  sentiments  of  Hall,  I 
am  not  without  a  self-jealousy  of  forwardness,  pre¬ 
cipitancy,  and  boldness.  God  grant,  that  the  tendency 
to  such  defects,  may  be  daily  lessened  in  me ;  and 
that,  at  the  same  time,  I  may  grow  in  zeal,  and 
modestly  and  profitably  discharge  the  duties,  of  the 
station  I  am  placed  in.  By  the  way,  speaking  of 
Hall,  I  am  charmed  with  the  style  and  sentiments  of 
some  of  his  practical  works,  into  which  I  have  looked, 
since  I  saw  you.  His  six  decades  of  epistles,  are 
most  truly  interesting  ;  and  some  that  I  have  read, 
entirely  free  from  that  quaintness,  and  seeming  affect¬ 
ation,  which  diminishes  the  pleasing  effect  of  his 
Contemplations.  I  transcribed,  this  morning,  for  my 
private  use,  the  8th  Epis.  of  the  3d  Decade,  4  On 
the  continual  exercise  of  a  Christian ;  how  he  may 
keep  his  heart  from  hardness,  and  his  way  from  error/ 
I  do  not  know,  that  I  ever  met  so  satisfactory,  and 
animating  a  compend,  of  the  objects  of  thanksgiving, 
self-examination,  and  prayer.* 

I  have  been  looking  into  Gale’s  Court  of  the 
Gentiles  ;  and  hope  to  study  the  greater  part  of  it 
with  attention.  It  is  a  treasure  of  erudition  :  and, 
though  he  is  perhaps,  in  some  parts,  fanciful,  and 
may  carry  his  system  of  deriving  all  knowledge,  from 
inspiration,  too  far ;  good  sense,  piety,  and  learn¬ 
ing,  are  conspicuous  throughout  the  work.  He  is  a 


*  Bishop  Jebb’s  relish  for  Hall,  continued  unabated  through  life.  It  is  an 
interesting  fact,  that,  just  previously  to  my  honoured  friend’s  seizure,  in  April, 
1827,  he  had  been  much  engaged  in  reading  Bishop  Hall;  whose  Contempla¬ 
tions,  the  last  book  he  had  been  using,  lay  upon  his  table.  And  so  it  was  to 
‘  the  very  last.’  For,  on  the  eve  of  his  last  illness,  a  few  weeks,  only,  before  his 
death,  Bishop  Hall  became,  once  more,  his  favourite  study ;  and  one  of  the 
latest  exercises  of  his  pen,  was  to  enrich  a  new  edition  of  Burnet’s  Lives, 
with  an  extract  from  this  eminent  Christian  ;  in  contemplation,  evidently,  of 
his  own  approaching  change.  See  Burnet’s  Lives,  2d  edit.  12mo.,  1834. 
p.  291.  .  .  Ed, 


95 


thorough-paced  platonist ;  and  yet,  (which  does  not 
always  happen  to  platonists,)  he  appears  to  have 
hit  the  happy  medium,  between  unqualified  applause, 
and  unjust  depreciation,  of  heathen  wisdom.  The 
fourth  and  last  part,  I  think  you  would  particularly 
like.  Its  title  is  ‘  Of  reformed  Philosophy,’  wherein 
Plato’s  moral  or  metaphysic,  or  prime  philosophy,  is 
reduced  to  an  useful  form  and  method.  I  shall  just 
transcribe  a  specimen ;  which,  I  think,  is  after  your 
own  heart.  4  Sin,  is,  in  itself,  the  greatest  punish¬ 
ment  ;  because,  the  greatest  evil.  Sin  was  the  first 
evil  that  came  into  the  world ;  that  which  opened  the 
door  to  all  other  evils.  Therefore,  there  cannot  be 
a  more  severe  punishment  of  sin,  than  to  be  left  to  a 
course  of  sin.  This,  Plato,  once  and  again,  takes 
notice  of.  Thus,  in  his  Gorgias,  (p.  447*  ed.  Stephan.) 
*H  7Tovv)qiol,  [Azyurrov  rcou  ovtcov  xaxov  etti,  .  .  The 

moral  evil  of  the  soul ,  is  of  all  evils  the  greatest . 
This  is  an  universal  evil :  nothing  but  evil  is  in  sin  ; 
it  is  the  spirit  and  elixir  of  all  evil.  All  evil  is  in 
sin ;  and  sin  is  in  all  evil.  So  p.  479.  Thou 
account est  unjust  men  happy,  if  they  escape  punish¬ 
ment ;  but,  I  account  them  more  miserable.  And  he 
gives  the  reason  of  it.  To  yaq  [at)  bixrjv  fi&ovai,  spfAOvy) 
too  xolxoo.  For,  not  to  he  punished  for  sin,  is  the 
establishment  of  sin .  So  p.  472,  According  to  my 
opinion,  O  Polus,  'O  aftixog  ot7ravrcou  ^  aQhiog* 
aSXicuTEQog  [aev  roivov,  eav  [ay}  $1000  An  unjust 

man,  is  of  all  most  miserable  :  yet  he  is  more  miserable , 
voho,  acting  unjustly,  avoids  punishment .  For,  what 
greater  punishment,  or  misery,  can  there  be,  than  to 
be  given  up,  by  God,  to  the  swinge  of  a  man’s  own 
lusts,  without  check  or  rebuke.  Are  not  such  punish¬ 
ments,  which  seem  most  silent,  most  severe  and 
desperate?  Albeit,  men  may  enjoy  security  in  their 


96 


sin,  for  a  while.  Yet,  is  not  this  the  worst  part  of 
their  punishment?  Doth  not  the  righteous  God,  oft 
convey  his  worst  curses  and  plagues,  in  the  sweet 
wine  of  temporal  prosperity?  There  is  no  blessing 
that  such  a  sinner  enjoys,  but  there  is  a  curse  stampt 
on  it.  Divine  justice  writes  a  piece  of  hell,  on  all 
his  temporal  comforts ;  as  he  writes  a  piece  of 
heaven,  on  all  the  chastisements  of  the  righteous. 
Thus,  also,  Plato,  in  his  Meno,  p.  78.  T/  yap 
a'kT^o  semis  a STuov  eivai,  7)  E7n6ufJLeiv  rcou  xaxcov,  xai 
xrao-Gai ;  for  what  else  is  it  to  he  miserable ,  than 
to  desire  evils ,  and  to  possess  them .  And  this  indeed 
is  a  general  dogma  with  Plato ;  as  in  his  Gorgias, 
that ,  to  he  punished  hy  a  judge  for  sin ,  is  not  the 
greatest  punishment ,  hut  even ,  then ,  when  they  are 
involved  in  their  sins ,  they  fall  under  the  most  severe 
punishment .  So  much  pleasure  as  men  take  in  the 
commission  of  their  sin,  so  much  torment  they  find 
in  the  issue.  The  evil  of  punishment,  is  answer- 
able  to  the  evil  doing.  He  that  departs  from  God, 
executes  on  himself,  his  own  doom.  And,  the 
further  he  departs  from  God,  the  more  he  is  in¬ 
volved  in  chains  and  darkness.  O  !  what  an  in¬ 
dissoluble  connexion  is  there,  between  sin  and  punish¬ 
ment  ?  Can  any  sin,  be  so  delicious  in  the  commission, 
as  it  is  bitter  in  the  issue  ?  -  Is  not  sin,  a  pregnant 
mother,  with  child  of  misery  ?  Yea,  doth  it  not  carry 
hell  in  its  womb  ?  He  that  loseth  his  God  by  sin, 
doth  he  not  lose  comforts,  life,  yea,  self’  and  all  ?’ 
If,  after  reading  this  extract,  you  wish  to  possess  the 
book,  I  believe  it  is  to  be  had  at  Dugdale’s ;  and,  if 
you  can  find  a  second  copy,  on  reasonable  terms, 

I  would  thank  you  to  keep  it  for  me.  If,  however, 
it  be  not  very  cheap,  I  can  well  wait  \  as  I  have  the 
use  of  Cashel  Library  $  from  which  I  now  have  many 


97 


books  in  mj  lodging,  and,  among  the  rest,  Gale.  I 
would  trouble  you  to  procure  for  me,  as  soon  as  you 
can,  at  Colbert’s,  or  if  necessary,  by  post,  the 
Christian  Observer  for  the  last  four  months,  viz. 
for  Sept.  Oct.  Nov.  and  Dec. ;  and  to  transmit  them, 
through  your  castle,  or  post-office  friends.  Also,  as 
soon  as  convenient,  Bates’s  Baxter,  Civil  Govern¬ 
ment,  and  Rural  Philosophy. 

And  now,  my  dear  Sir,  I  have  a  still  greater  favour 
to  ask ;  that  you  would  write  to  me,  as  soon,  and  as 
often,  as  your  leisure  and  your  spirits  will  admit : 
that  you  would  have  the  goodness  to  write,  as  you 
talk  to  me ;  throwing  out  any  hints  that  may  occur, 
whether  curious,  moral,  or  scriptural.  I  promise  you, 
I  will  both  prize  them  highly,  and,  with  God’s  help, 
endeavour  to  use  them  profitably.  In  return,  I  will 
sometimes  trouble  you  with  my  thoughts  and  studies. 
I  have  found  in  Gale,  a  parallel  division,  with  St.  Paul’s 
power,  love,  and  sound  mind;  and  with  Baxter’s  scire , 
velle ,  posse .  It  is  quoted  from  Plato;  but,  unfor¬ 
tunately,  without  the  Greek,  and  without  reference. 
It  is,  as  follows :  .  .  *  To  philosophize,  is  to  know,  to 
love,  and  to  imitate  God.’  Does  not  this  deserve  to 
be  written  in  letters  of  gold,  as  the  acme  of  heathen 
philosophy  ?  And  is  it  not  one  eminent  proof, 
that  the  most  cultivated  reason,  is  most  coincident 
with  divine  revelation.  This  is,  in  truth,  divine  phi¬ 
losophy.  There  is  nothing  harsh,  or  crabbed,  about 
it.  When  I  turn  from  it,  to  high  Calvinism,  can 
you  blame  me,  if  I  exclaim,  Sit  mea  anima  cum 
'philosophis  ? 

Yours  ever, 

J»  J  o 


VOL.  I. 


H 


98 


LETTER  11. 


Jan.  28.  1804. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  greatly  thank  you  for  your  right  pleasant  letter. 
The  amiable  apostle  St.  John  says,  in  his  3d  epistle, 

‘  I  have  no  greater  joy,  than  to  hear  that  my  children 
walk  in  truth/  And  I  conceive  the  substance  of 
his  sentiment  is  entailed  upon  all,  that  inherit  any 
real  portion  of  his  Christian  feelings.  I  believe  I  felt 
a  good  deal  in  this  way,  when  I  read  your  account  of 
yourself.  You  have  heard  me  quote  that  beautiful 
sentence  of  Boethius, 

Fcelix  qui  potuit  boni 
Fontem  visere  lucidum.* 

The  quiet  serenity  you  have  tasted,  and,  I  trust, 
are  tasting,  is  a  prelibation  from  this  fountain. 

‘  Great  peace  have  they  who  love  thy  law,’  is  a 
natural,  as  well  as  a  divine  truth ;  a  platonic,  no  less 
than  a  scriptural  sentiment.  And,  certainly,  these 
feelings  are  given,  to  make  it  be  known,  by  experience, 
that  ‘  wisdom’s  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and 
all  her  paths  are  peace.’ 

Bishop  Hall  was  a  thoroughly  Christian  man  ;  of 
great  powers  of  mind,  and  genuine  piety.  It  is 
remarkable,  how  his  piety  brightens,  towards  the 
close  of  his  life.  It  might  be  supposed,  that  there 
was  something  to  be  overcome  in  him,  and,  therefore, 
such  sharp  sufferings  were  permitted  to  come  upon 

*  Happy  the  man,  whose  heaven-lit  eye, 

Could  pierce  the  fount  of  Deity. 


99 


him ;  but,  his  Free  Prisoner,  and  his  Soul’s  Farewell  to 
Earth  and  Approach  to  Heaven,  or  some  such  name, 
shows  a  completely  humble,  spiritual,  and  heavenly 
mind.  He  was  of  a  different  school  from  my  greatest 
favourites ;  but  he  had  in  him  the  root  of  the  matter, 
and  was  an  excellent  man. 

These  early  post  hours,  make  it  unavoidable  to 
write  short  letters,  if  one  writes  at  all  in  the  evening. 
I  could  not  write  in  the  morning  ;  and  the  time  so 
presses,  that  I  must  only  add  now. 

That  I  am  always. 

Most  truly  and  affectionately  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 

P.  S.  I  have  inquired  for  Gale;  but  it  is  not  yet 
sent  me,  though  I  believe  he  has  it. 


LETTER  XVII. 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq . 


March  9.  1804. 

My  dear  Sir, 

#  *  &  #  # 

#  #  #  #  # 

And  now  as  to  the  first  part  of  your  letter.  I  shall  be 
happy  to  hear  from  you  on  the  subject,  when  your 
leisure  or  inclination  leads  you  to  take  it  up.  But, 
at  the  present,  I  wish  you  would  advert  to  a  corre¬ 
spondence  in  the  Christian  Obs.,  on  Rom.  vii.  14.  25.; 
particularly  a  letter  from  J.  P.  in  the  last  number, 
p.  67.  I  could  wish  you  would  commit  to  paper  your 

h  2 


100 

view  of  the  passages,  and  send  it  for  publication.  It 
would  be  a  very  useful  service ;  and  you  have  so 
thoroughly  digested  the  subject,  that  it  would  cost 
you  no  more  trouble,  than  an  ordinary  letter.  The 
business,  as  yet,  is  taken  up,  on  very  partial,  unsatis¬ 
factory  grounds. 

I  am  much  pleased  with  a  review  of  Hall’s  Fast- 
day  Sermon,  in  the  same  number.  So  far  as  I  can 
judge,  from  the  extracts  given,  both  the  merits  and 
defects  of  this  excellent  production,  are  fairly  stated. 
Would  you  recommend  the  abridgment  of  Baxter’s 
Christian  Directory,  by  Adam  Clarke?  It  is  ad¬ 
vertised  on  the  back  of  the  Christian  Obs.  (last 
number.)  If  so,  I  would  gladly  order  it ; . .  Jones  on 
the  Canon,  republished  at  the  Clarendon  Press,  3 
vols.  15s.  ;  the  2d  vol.  of  Gisborne’s  Sermons  ;  and 
Hall’s  Fast  Sermon.  These,  your  friend  Mr.  Cooke 
could  import ;  and  when  imported,  they,  together 
with  Bates’s  two  books,  and,  if  you  can  procure 
them,  Gillies’s  first  Collections,  might  be  boxed  by 
him,  and  sent  me,  by  a  Cashel  carrier. 

I  have  to  thank  you  for  four  numbers  of  the  Ob¬ 
server,  andBates’s  Rural  Philosophy ;  which  I  received 

safely  from  the  hands  of  Mr. -  Have  you  ever 

read  any  of  Prudentius?  If  the  passage,  which  I 
write  underneath,  has  not  hitherto  presented  itself 
to  you,  I  think  you  will  not  be  displeased  at  the 
quotation.  It  is  from  his  morning  hymn. 

Sic  tota  decurrat  dies, 

Ne  lingua  mendax,  aut  manus, 

Oculive  peccent  lubrici ; 

Ne  noxia  corpus  inquinet. 

Speculator  adstat  desuper 
Qui  nos,  diebus  omnibus, 


101 


Actusque  nostros  prospicit 
A  luce  priraa  in  vesperum. 
Hie  testis,  hie  est  arbitor, 

Hie  intuetur  quicquid  est 
Humana  quod  mens  concipit : 
Hunc  nemo  fallit  judicem.* 


1  must  now  break  off,  with  the  assurance  that  1  am, 

My  dear  Sir, 

Very  faithfully  and  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  12. 


Tuesday,  March  13.  1804. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  see  no  objection  to  your  occupying  any  time,  that 
should  seem  to  require  filing  up,  in  the  manner 
you  mention  in  yours  of  the  16th  ult.  I  should 
only  wish,  that  it  may  be  taken  up,  not  as.  a  chief, 
but  rather  as  a  supplementary  object.  The  pri¬ 
mary  object,  I  conceive,  ought  to  be  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment.  I  mean,  in  this  very  way ;  and,  therefore,  I 

*  So  may  this  day  glide  peaceful  by, 

That  neither  tongue,  nor  hand,  nor  eye, 

In  word,  in  deed,  in  look  may  sin : 

Pure  all  without,  as  all  within. 

A  Holy  Watcher  f  stands  on  high, 

Who  marks,  with  ever-wakeful  eye, 

Us  and  our  acts,  from  morn’s  first  light, 

Till  evening’s  shades  bring  on  the  night. 

/  Sole  witness  He,  sole  arbiter. 

Of  all  the  secrets  buried  there,  — 

The  mind  of  man  to  nought  gives  birth, 

That  scapes  the  Judge  of  all  the  Earth. 


f  Daniel,  iv.  13. 

H  3 


102 


think  every  divine  should  have  an  interleaved  one. 
I  have,  for  some  time,  purposed  to  desire  Dugdale 
to  prepare  for  me,  in  the  manner  I  speak  of,  Mr. 
Wesley’s  quarto  Testament,  so  as  to  make  two 
volumes.  I  prefer  it,  not  on  account  of  his  notes,  but 
on  account  of  his  following  the  paragraphic  division 
of  Bengelius.  Also,  the  interleaved  pages  will  con¬ 
tain  more  comparative  space.  I  mention  this,  to  ex¬ 
emplify  my  idea,  as,  in  these  matters,  circumstantials 
are  of  some  moment ;  and,  therefore,  I  deem  it  valu¬ 
able  to  have  sufficient  room,  on  the  page  opposite  to 
the  text,  without  multiplying  the  blank  leaves.  Now, 
I  will  tell  you  plainly,  why  I  thus  recommend  your 
plan,  only  in  a  secondary  way.  It  is,  that  no  theory, 
or  systematic  pursuit,  however  innocent  or  proper,  or 
even  collaterally  beneficial,  in  itself,  may  divert  you 
from  tracing,  as  a  devoted  student,  all  the  deep,  but 
not  inextricable  windings,  of  the  New  Testament 
philosophy.  6  Why,  is  not  this  substantially  in¬ 
volved,  in  the  plan  I  propose?’  I  answer,  The 
first  view  of  this  divine  philosophy  is,  its  operation 
on  the  individual  heart :  this  is  fundamental  to  all 
the  rest.  In  applying  the  mind  to  this,  all  and 
every  idea,  that  could,  even  by  possibility,  extrovert 
the  thought,  or  detach  any  portion  of  attention, 
ought,  I  conceive,  to  be  kept  out  of  view.  I  would 
wish  you,  therefore,  to  have  no  other  object  here, 
(except  the  unavoidable  one,  growing  out  of  minis¬ 
terial  duties,)  than  to  possess  yourself1  of  the  very 
meaning,  and  absolute  scope,  of  what  our  Lord  and 
his  apostles  taught ;  to  see  it  clearly,  with  your  mind’s 
eye ;  and  to  feel  it  vitally,  in  your  own  heart. 

Now,  do  not  suppose,  that  I  suspect  you  of  mean¬ 
ing  any  thing,  which  could  imply  neglect  of  this.  By 
no  means.  But,  I  thus  distinctly  press  it  upon  your 


103 


thoughts,  because  I  think  you  are  peculiarly  well 
fitted  for  it.  I  cannot  but  fancy  to  myself,  that  if, 
with  your  studious  habits,  &c.  &c.  which  I  must 
not  spread  out  before  yourself,  you  had  just  that 
view  of  scripture,  which,  some  how  or  other,  God’s 
good  Spirit  has  led  me  to,  but  which  countless  in¬ 
firmities  prevent  me  from  improving  in  myself,  or 
rendering  even  competently  useful  to  others,  what 
a  solid,  substantial  work  on  the  New  Testament,  you 
might  one  day  produce ! 

But  to  return  to  the  common  place.  I  have  thus 
postponed  it,  because,  though  containing  much  prac¬ 
tical  matter,  it  would,  in  the  way  of  research,  lead 
you  rather  to  trace  the  dispensations  of  God  in  the 
world,  and  to  consider  the  external  light  of  truth,  as 
variously  and  progressively  afforded,  than  the  internal 
operation  and  illumination  of  the  heart.  Now,  my 
thought  is,  that  this  last  is,  in  order  of  right  under¬ 
standing,  so  strictly  prior,  and  is  so  necessary  as  the 
preoccupant  of  the  mind,  that  I  should  deem  your 
success,  in  the  course  of  study  you  mention,  to  depend, 
on  it  coming  in  as  a  satellite  of  the  other.  On  this, 
I  think  I  have  said  enough,  to  make  myself  intel¬ 
ligible  to  a  duller  man  than  yourself;  and  yet  I  am 
loth  to  quit  the  subject. 

The  truth  is,  that,  in  what  I  am  now  saying,  I  feel 
myself  within  the  precincts  of  the  4  sapientum  templa 
serena;’  and  to  be  hopefully  attempting  to  lead  you 
in  also.  Well  might  Lucretius  say  of  this  sublime 
height,  £  Nil  dulcius  est  bene  quam  munita  tenere,’ 
&c.  ;  and  the  advantage,  which  he  dwells  upon,  of 
being  above  worldly  attractions  and  perturbations, 
was,  surely,  never  more  impressive,  than  in  these  times. 
Truly,  when  I  read  these  first  thirteen  lines,  of  the  2d 
book,  of  that  atheistic  poem,  I  cannot  but  think,  there 

h  4) 


104 


must  have  been  some  sort  of  temporary  afflatus  in  the 
case.  It  is  all  so  literally  just  of  Christianity  ;  and  of 
nothing  else.  It  is  one  of  the  many  wonderful  as¬ 
pirations,  after  the  ‘  peace  which  passeth  all  under¬ 
standing/  by  which  the  congruity  of  the  gospel,  with 
the  deepest  feelings  of  hope  and  pleasure,  as  well  as 
of  want  and  pain,  in  the  human  bosom,  was  demon¬ 
strated,  almost  by  anticipation.  And  such  feelings 
after  God  (s/  cl^oc  ys  -tyrjT^cMprjarsioLV  oldtov,  xou  eu^oisv') 
are  surely  the  complete  comment,  on  that  title  of  the 
Messiah,  in  Haggai,  .  .  ‘  The  desire  of  all  nations/ 
Yesterday,  as  I  was  walking  in  the  streets,  I  asked 
myself,  e  What  is  Christianity  ?  ’  It  is,  answered  my 
mind,  a  divine  system  of  spiritual  attractions,  by 
which,  whosoever  gives  himself  honestly  to  them,  is 
effectually  drawn  out  of,  the  otherwise  invincible 
entanglements,  and  inextricable  intricacies,  of  this 
dark,  miserable,  polluting,  heart-lacerating  world, 

(the  OLICOV  TOD  X0(T[X0D  T0DT0D  .  .  tile  E^ODCTIOL  T(OU  X0(T- 
[AOXQOIT£(J(OV  TOD  (TXOTOUg  TOD  0U(DV0£  T0DT0D )  :  and  led 

forth  into  what  David  has  described,  as  ‘  green  pas¬ 
tures,  beside  the  still  waters’ ;  or  what  Saint  Paul  has 
emphatically  called  ZI2H  KAI  EIPHNH,  Life  and 
peace.  The  truth  is,  to  a  person  of  any  sensibility, 
this  world  is  a  wretched  place.  There  is  not  a  step  in 
life,  where  we  can  be  sure  of  not  meeting  some  latent, 
lurking  thorn  ;  and  when  we  fall  in  with  those  various 
adventurers,  described  by  Lucretius  above, . .  if  they 
are  in  pursuit,  they  rudely  shove  us  by ;  if  they  are 
in  possession  of  their  prize,  they  despise  us  in  their 
hearts,  and  tell  us  by  their  looks  and  manner  that 
they  do  so.  A  hard,  selfish,  thorough-paced  mind, 
goes  on,  and  cares  not;  but  the  sensible,  delicate, 
feeling  spirit,  is  ever  pushed  to  the  wall.  To  such  a 
spirit,  then,  what  a  gentle,  blessed  relief1  is  afforded, 


105 


by  a  heart-knowledge  of  Christianity !  There  is  no 
abatement  of  feeling:  the  vivid  perception  is  as 
great  as  ever.  But  the  heart  and  mind  are  so  occu¬ 
pied,  so  filled,  so  richly  compensated,  and  so  deeply 
tranquillized,  by  the  pursuit,  the  contemplation,  the 
confident,  affectionate,  filial  apprehension,  of  God ; 
the  seripturally  revealed  God,  Creator,  Redeemer, 
and  Sanctifier ;  the  incarnate  God,  touched  with  the 
feeling  of  our  infirmities ;  and  all  this  infinitely  har¬ 
monizing,  or  rather  identifying,  with  the  philosophic 
view  of  the  first  good ,  first  perfect,  and  first  fair , 
while  it  is  practically  and  experimentally  evinced,  by 
undeniable,  invaluable,  never-failing  influences  and 
effects  within  ;  all  this  together,  forms  such  a  set-off 
against,  and  such  a  refuge  from,  the  common  pains 
and  penalties  of  mortality,  as  often  makes  the  natu¬ 
rally  vulnerable  mind  rejoice  in  its  quickness  of  feel¬ 
ing,  because  this  serves  to  enhance  the  preciousness 
of  the  blessing. 

Perhaps  this  view  may  appear  to  you  too  highly 
coloured.  It  would  be  so,  were  it  to  be  taken  as  the 
hourly  state  of  a  Christian’s  mind :  but  all  this,  to  its 
extent,  is  the  cloudless  meridian  state.  Many  partial 
obscurations  occur,  to  diminish  this  clearness.  But 
they  only  diminish  it ;  the  substance  still  remains.  A 
kind  of  mental  rain  and  storm  may,  also,  be  often 
experienced  5  and  the  weather-beaten  pilgrim  may 
tremble,  to  find  himself  driven,  as  he  thinks,  to  the 
very  edge  of  some  dangerous  precipice.  But  he 
does  not  fall  over.  He  recovers  his  footing,  and  his 
confidence ;  and,  in  a  little  time,  the  sky  is  cleared  ; 
and  the  air  becomes  calm  and  genial.  Amid  all  this, 
however,  there  is  sensible  progress.  And  this  variety 
has  its  great  use.  In  order  that  the  mind  may  main¬ 
tain  its  victory  over  sin,  it  must  be  kept  on  the  alert 


106 


by  temptation.  In  order  that  it  may  continually  look 
to  heaven  for  strength,  it  must  be  made  to  feel  its 
own  entire  imbecility.  And,  it  is,  on  the  whole,  ne¬ 
cessary,  that  nothing  here  should  be  perfect,  in  order 
to  the  eternal  sabbatism  being  rightly  pursued,  and 
habitually  anticipated. 

These  being  my  views,  I  should  certainly  feel 
pleasure,  in  rescuing  that  perverted  passage,  Rom.vii. 
14  .  .  25.,  out  of  those  rash  hands,  that  are  so  busied 
in  variously  disfiguring  Saint  Paul’s  exquisite  work¬ 
manship  ;  but  some  other  matters,  at  present,  press 
upon  me,  and  must  be  first  disposed  of.  But  I  hope 
not  to  lose  sight  of  your  suggestion. 

I  have  twice  written  for  the  two  smaller  Bates’s ; 
and  look  out  for  them  daily.  I  will  order  the  other 
things  for  you.  I  sent  you  my  own  Bates’  R.  P.*;  and 
it  is  well  I  did,  for  it  has  already  got  out  of  print. 
Is  not  this  a  pleasant  fact  ?  Here  was  no  name  to 
recommend  to  notice,  as  in  the  case  of  Hannah  More, 
and  Mr.  Wilberforce.  Of  course  nothing  but  its  own 
attractiveness,  could  make  it  popular.  Certainly,  I 
have  not  seen,  in  this  day,  a  work  so  wisely  adapted, 
to  insinuate  deepest  truths  into  readers,  with  the  least 
possible  alarm.  Like  the  surgeon  in  John  Hales,  he 
most  effectually  conceals  his  lancet  in  a  sponge. 

I  must  get  Prudentius  ;  except  you  damp  the 
idea  your  quotation  has  given  me.  I,  probably,  have 
several  of  his  hymns,  in  the  Romish  breviary. 

You,  perhaps,  do  not  know,  that  the  junto  of 
Walkerites,  have  attacked  your  sermon.  I  must, 
therefore,  enable  you  to  read  what  is  said  against 
you,  as  far  as  it  goes ;  and,  therefore,  send  you,  with 
this,  the  number  of  their  publication,  wherever  it  is. 


—  Ed. 


*  ‘  Rural  Philosophy.’ 


107 


There  are  very  few  things  indeed,  which  will  not  be 
seen  differently,  from  different  points  of  view.  If 
any  one,  therefore,  resolves  to  oppose,  all  he  has  to 
do  is,  to  discover  the  point  of  view,  from  which  a 
different  appearance  will  present  itself;  and,  then, 
obstinately  set  the  one  appearance  against  the  other, 
with  steady  disregard  of  all  explanatory  considerations. 
In  this  way,  controversies  may  be  carried  on  for  ever  : 
as  in  this  way,  they  have,  already,  been  multiplied  ad 
infinitum.  But  this,  after  all,  is  the  method  of  Babel, 
or  of  Bedlam  (which  you  will)  ;  and  as  such,  to  be 
borne  with  patiently  :  for  they  who  take  this  mode, 
are  as  much  beyond  rational  conviction,  as  any  mad¬ 
men  whatever.  Exactly  of  this  kind,  in  my  opinion, 
was  the  greatest  part  of  Mr.  Walker’s  letter  to  me. 
It  is  painful,  however,  that  such  a  phenomenon  as 
this  ‘  Advocate,’  should  present  itself  to  our  little 
public.  But  Providence  brings  good  out  of  evil. 

Farewell,  my  good  friend, 

And  believe  me  ever, 

Yours  faithfully, 

Alex.  Knox. 

P.  S.  There  is  ability  amongst  those  persons.  The 
remark  on  the  expression  4  Lord's  Day ,’  in  [the] 
128th  and  129th  pages,  is  very  just  and  ingenious; 
but,  I  suppose,  not  new. 


108 


LETTER  XVIII. 
To  A .  Knox ,  Esq . 


Cashel,  Friday,  March  23.  1804. 

My  dear  Sir, 

This  day  seven-night,  I  received  your  kind  com¬ 
munication  ;  and,  since,  I  have  been  too  much 
occupied  to  answer  it.  The  packet  that  now  ac¬ 
companies  this,  will  show  you  how  I  have  been 
employed.  Whether  well,  or  ill,  I  cannot  judge : 
but  I  shall  expect  your  opinion,  if  possible,  by  return 
of  post.  It  should  be  nothing  more  than  the  laconic 
. .  c  Print,’  or  ‘  Not  print.’  I  think  we  ought  not  alto¬ 
gether  to  let  those  people  write  and  review  us  down. 
On  this  principle,  I  would  wish  to  publish  my  essay. 
What  I  now  send,  would  make,  I  believe,  one  third 
of  the  whole,  or  thereabouts.  I  have  in  my  mind,  or 
my  common-place  book,  matter,  that  I  consider  more 
important  and  interesting,  than  what  you  now  see ; 
and  I  feel  within  me,  that  I  could  work  it  up  with 
tolerable  ease.  If,  however,  you,  or  any  other  equally 
judicious  friend,  would  recommend  silence,  I  will 
obey;  though,  I  must  own,  in  opposition  to  my  present 
sentiment.  Should  you  recommend  publication,  I 
think  speed  is  an  object.  I  wish  to  get  the  matter 
off  my  mind,  and  have  done  with  it. 

Do  not  imagine,  by  all  this,  that  I  have  been  in¬ 
attentive  to,  or  unimpressed  by,  the  excellent  advice 
you  have  been  good  enough  to  give  me.  It  is  my 
present  intention,  with  God’s  help,  to  make  New- 
Testament  truth,  the  great  object  of  my  pursuit.  It 


is,  incomparably,  the  most  important.  And,  indi¬ 
vidually  and  practically  applied,  is,  I  am  sure,  the 
only  solid  foundation,  of  moral  security,  and  internal 
comfort.  My  conviction  of  this,  at  present,  prin¬ 
cipally  rests,  on  the  unquestionable  testimony  of  good 
and  pious  men ;  who  were  themselves  elevated, 
purified,  and  almost  beatified,  through  the  influence 
of  scriptural  Christianity.  And  permit  me  to  say, 
that,  in  addition  to  this  cloud  of  experimental  evi¬ 
dence,  the  rich  and  delightful  view  afforded  in  your 
letter,  has  been  to  my  mind,  a  source  of  calm,  tran¬ 
quil,  and  most  comfortable  assurance,  that  there  is  a 
divine  reality,  in  the  gospel  promises  of  happiness 
and  peace.  I  am  disposed  to  wish,  that  my  persuasion 
were  more  the  vivid  result  of  personal  experience. 
But,  I  trust,  the  wish  is  unaccompanied  by  any  over- 
solicitous  impatience.  This  great  work  is,  most  com¬ 
monly,  progressive.  And  I  really  think,  that,  though 
in  a  very  low  stage  of  improvement,  if  at  all  im¬ 
proving,  I  have  reason  to  be  thankful,  that  1  have 
been  already  brought  to  see  and  feel,  the  utter  insuf¬ 
ficiency  of  any  means  merely  human ;  and  that, 
through  the  gloom  of  the  surrounding  atmosphere,  a 
few  rays  sometimes  pierce,  affording  a  glimpse  of 
attainable  tranquillity.  It  is  the  character  of  the 
good-ground  hearers,  that  they  ‘  bring  forth  fruit 
'with  patience .’  Is  it  not,  therefore,  my  duty,  in  the 
diligent  use  of  appointed  means,  to  await  God’s  good 
time  of  ripening  the  fruit  ;  of  bringing  to  maturity 
the  scire ,  the  vette,  and  the  posse  ? 

Such,  in  some  measure,  are  my  present  feelings. 
I  consider  the  ‘  sapientum  templa  serena’,  .  .  c  the 
regions  mild,  of  calm  and  serene  air,’  as  distant, 
indeed,  but  not  unapproachable  ;  and  I  gladly  lay 
hold  of  the  friendly  hand,  that  would  lead  me  there ; 


110 


relying  on  Him,  whom  I  would  address  in  the  words 
of  Boetius,  with  humble  hope,  .  . 

Da,  pater,  augustam  mentis  conscendere  sedem, 

Da  fontem  lustrare  boni,  da  luce  reperta 

In  te  conspicuos  animi  defigere  visus  !  * 

Two  days  before  the  receipt  of  your  letter,  I  had  en¬ 
tered  on  the  regular  study  of  the  Acts,  in  the  original. 
It,  however,  has  led  me  to  considerations,  which,  I 
see,  will  terminate,  in  beginning  Saint  Matthew  ;  and 
this,  precisely  with  a  view  to  the  operation  of  divine 
philosophy,  in  the  individual  heart.  The  plan  of 
operation,  however,  is  necessarily  postponed,  by  the 
pressure  of  the  present  exigency.  And  one  principal 
reason  why  I  wish  to  apply,  almost  exclusively,  to  my 
essay,  for  a  little  time,  is,  that  my  mind  may  be  dis¬ 
burdened,  of  the  subject  which  now  presses  upon  it ; 
and,  thus,  be  unclouded,  for  the  calm  consideration 
of  far  more  important  matters.  I  may  now  say, 

6  Mens  agitat  molem.’  Ideas  are  now  opposing  each 
other,  and  now  coalescing,  with  a  quick  succession. 
I  cannot  resist  them ;  and,  therefore,  I  feel  the  ne¬ 
cessity  of  giving  them  vent  on  paper.  So  entirely 
passive  have  I  been  in  the  business,  that  I  had  actu¬ 
ally,  on  Saturday  last,  written  a  good  part  of  a  letter 
to  you,  containing  reasons  for  passing  by  the  6  Ad¬ 
vocate’s  ’  review  in  silence.  Out  of  that  letter,  how¬ 
ever,  arose  the  essay.  It  grew  on  me  quite  imper¬ 
ceptibly  ;  and,  as  it  grew,  I  saw  reasons  for  changing 
my  first  design.  Whether  the  reasons  are  sound,  or 


*  Father  of  lights,  O  !  guide  my  steps  to  find 
The  seat,  where  throned  dwells  th’  eternal  mind ; 
Grant  xne  the  living  fount  of  Good  to  trace, 

And  eye  thy  glory  with  unveiled  face,  d1 


f  II  Cor.  iii.  18, 


Ill 


whether  they  are  the  illusions  of  a  mind  bent  on  the 
subject,  I  cannot  say.  You  will  judge  coolly  of  the 
matter,  and  advise  accordingly ;  taking  into  account, 
however,  the  difficulty  of  getting  the  mind  clear  of  a 
train  of  ideas,  that  has  occupied  it  perforce. 

I  think,  on  the  whole,  Prudentius  may  be  worth 
getting ;  though  there  is  much  in  it  I  do  not  like. 
The  morning  hymn,  whose  conclusion  I  quoted,  is 
excellent  throughout.  I  will  give  you  another  toler¬ 
ably  favourable  specimen.  It  is  taken  from  his 
‘  Hymnus  in  laudem  Vincentii  Martyris.’ 

Erras,  cruente,  si  meam 
Te  rere  pcenam  sumere, 

Quum  membra  morti  obnoxia 
Dilancinata  interficis. 

Est  alter,  homo  intrinsecus, 

Violare  quern  nullus  potest, 

Liber,  quietus,  integer, 

Exsors  dolorum  tristium, 

Hoc,  quod  laboras  perdere 
Tantis  furoris  viribus, 

Vas  est  solutum  ac  fictile, 

Quocunque  frangendum  modo. 

Quin  immo  nunc  enitere 
Ilium  secare,  ac  plectere, 

Qui  perstat  intus,  qui  tuam 
Calcat,  tyranne,  insaniam. 

Hunc,  hunc  lacesse  ;  hunc  discute, 

Invictum,  insuperabilem, 

Nullis  procellis  subditum, 

Solique  subjectum  Deo.  * 


*  Think  not,  vain  erring  man  of  blood, 
On  me  thy  tyrant  vengeance  pour’d, 
When  my  frail  limbs,  in  wrathful  mood, 
Thou  giv’st  to  the  destroying  sword. 


112 


There  is  another  point  of  view,  in  which  I  know  not 
whether  Prudentius  has  been  considered.  And  that 
is,  as  affording  instances  of  incipient  superstition. 
He  flourished  about  A.  D,  400.  And  the  following 
passage  shows,  that,  at  that  period,  the  cross  was  held 
in  a  kind  of  superstitious  reverence,  as  effecting  what 
could  be  produced  only  by  God’s  spirit,  assisting 
our  own  earnest  efforts.  It  is  in  his  ‘  Hymnus  ante 
Somnum. 

Fac  cum,  vocante  somno, 

Castum  petis  cubile, 

Frontem,  locumque  cordis 
Crucis  figura  signet. 

Crux  pellit  omne  crimen  : 

Fugiunt  crucem  tenebrae  : 

Tali  dicata  signo, 

Mens  fluctuare  nescit.* 


Another  self  there  dwells  within, 

Whom  nought  can  harm,  whom  none  molest ;  — 
Free,  quiet,  scatheless,  cleansed  from  sin, 

Midst  mortal  agonies  at  rest. 

That  which  thou  lab ’rest  to  destroy, 

(Sole  victim  of  thy  fury’s  stroke,) 

Is  but  a  fragile  earthen  toy, 

By  chance,  or  childish  folly,  broke. 

But  prove  thy  power  ’gainst  th’  inner  man, 

In  iron  bound,  by  tortures  torn,  — 

The  unfettered  Spirit,  grasp’d  in  vain, 

Laughs  all  thy  puny  rage  to  scorn  : 

This  try,  this  torture,  this  molest,  — 
Unconquered,  and  invincible, 

No  mortal  storms  can  break  its  rest, 

God’s  freeman  fears  no  earthly  ill. 

When  at  night  thou  seek’st  repose, 

Ere  sweet  sleep  thine  eyelids  close, 

Sign  with  the  cross  each  nobler  part. 

The  forehead,  seat  of  thought,  —  the  heart. 

No  crime  finds  place  where  it  is  nigh, 

From  it  the  powers  of  darkness  fly  : 

Secure  beneath  this  holy  sign, 

Rests  the  calm’d  soul  in  peace  divine. 


113 


I  send  you  back  4  Hal]/  with  many  thanks,  and 
would  be  obliged  to  you  to  order  for  me  a  copy  of  the 
2d  edit.  ;  also,  the  8vo.  edit,  of  Parkhurst’s  Greek 
Lexicon.  These  can  come  down  with  the  other  books. 
I  think  I  should  like  to  have  Milner’s  Church  His¬ 
tory.  It  is  calvinistic,  I  believe ;  but,  then,  it  contains 
biographical  remark,  much  concerning  the  interior 
of  religion,  which  one  would  look  for  to  no  purpose, 
in  Mosheim.  I  need  not  say,  I  would  be  obliged  by 
your  sending  the  next  number  of  the  4  Advocate’  by 
post,  the  day  it  comes  out. 

I  must  now  conclude  myself,  my  dear  Sir, 

Yours  ever,  most  faithfully  and  affectionately, 

John  Jebb, 


LETTER  13. 


March  26*.  1804. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  have  sufficiently  looked  at  your  manuscript  to 
satisfy  me,  that  it  is  far  too  good,  and  too  able, 
and  too  learned,  (I  speak  soberly  and  simply,) 
to  be  thrown  away  on  so  forlorn  a  hope.  In¬ 
deed,  you  must  hear,  patiently  and  quietly,  without 
answering  a  word.  You  could  not,  I  assure  you,  give 
higher  satisfaction  to  those  pert  and  petulant  boys, 
than  to  enter  the  lists  with  them.  But  you  must  do 
with  them,  as  I  did  with  their  master ;  and  I  am 
more  and  more  convinced,  that  I  did  wisely.  There 
is  a  dignity  in  silence,  which,  though  we  must  not 
proudly  assume,  for  our  own  sakes,  we  may  prudently 
preserve,  for  our  cause’s  sake.  I  consulted  with  -~ 
vol.  r.  x 


114 


this  day ;  and  he  quite  agrees  with  me.  And, 
let  me  add,  that  there  is  scarcely  any  more  salutary 
kind  of  self-denial,  than  to  suppress  that  very  thing, 
which,  on  ground  of  feeling,  we  would  be  eager  to 
send  abroad.  I  know  your  feeling  is,  zeal  for  truth. 
But  I  soberly  think,  that  truth  will  gain  more  advan¬ 
tage,  from  those  puerile  opposers  of  it  being  left 
completely  to  themselves.  Were  I  to  fill  this  sheet, 
I  could  not  express  this  conviction  more  strongly  than 
I  feel  it. 

Always  yours,  most  faithfully, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  XIX. 
To  A .  KnooCy  Esq. 


Cashel,  April  6.  1804. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  think  you  will  not  be  displeased  to  hear,  that 
before  I  received  yours  of  the  26th  ult.,  my  mind 
was  made  up,  for  a  prohibition  of  any  further  pro¬ 
ceeding  versus  the  Walkerites  ;  and  that,  accordingly, 
I  most  cheerfully  acquiesced  in  your  sentence ; 
though  I  believe  there  was  too  much  of  the  insensible 
partiality  of  friendship,  in  the  approbation  expressed 
of  the  MS.  Such  as  it  is,  if  you  please,  you  may 
keep  it ;  or  if  not,  put  it  into  the  fire. 

This  morning,  looking  into  the  Exercitationes 
Evangelicm  of  Abraham  Scultetus  (affixed  to  the  6th 
vol.  of  the  Critici  Sacri),  I  was  so  struck  with  one, 
that  I  immediately  proceeded  to  translate  it ;  and,  as 


115 


it  treats  of  a  subject  on  which  we  have  often  talked, 
I  will  transcribe  the  translation  for  your  perusal  and 
opinion ;  not  as  to  the  execution  on  my  part,  which 
is  very  hasty,  but  as  to  the  theology  of  Scultetus. 
Doddridge,  you  know,  holds  the  same  opinion  with 
him,  on  this  point. 

Exercit.  Evang.  cap.  5. 

‘  Saint  Luke  pronounces  a  great  eulogium,  on  the 
parents  of  John  the  Baptist.  They  were  both  right¬ 
eous  before  God,  walking  in  all  the  commandments 
and  ordinances  of  the  Lord,  blameless.5  From  which 
words,  however,  it  is  not  to  be  inferred,  that  they 
were  free  from  all  sin  :  for,  as  Justin  Martyr  writes, 
4  to  be  blameless  is  one  thing ;  to  be  sinless,  another ; 
for  he  that  is  free  from  sin,  is,  in  all  respects,  blame¬ 
less,  also  ;  but  he  that  is  blameless,  is  by  no  means  ne¬ 
cessarily  exempt  from  sin,  (Quest.  140.)  Accordingly, 
in  this  very  chapter,  the  Evangelist  notices  the  sin 
(a^a^T^a)  of  incredulity,  in  Zacharias,  And  these 
great  luminaries  of  the  church,  Moses,  David, 
Hezekiah,  Jeremiah,  Zachariah,  occasionally  suffered 
obscurations  and  failures,  of  faith,  of  holiness,  or  of 
patience ;  and  were  eclipsed,  some  a  greater,  and 
others  a  smaller,  number  of  digits ;  in  order  that  all 
men  intent  upon  Christ,  the  Sun  of  righteousness, 
who  perpetually  shines,  should,  from  him,  daily  seek 
the  constant  light  of  faith. 

From  hence  alone,  then,  we  may  collect,  that  our 
Christian  perfection  does  not  consist  (amjaag'njG'/a)  in 
sinlessness,  (for  <  there  is  no  man  that  sinneth  not,5  was 
the  confession  of  the  wise  Solomon,  which  St.  John, 
the  first  of  the  apostles,  thus  corroborates,  ‘  If  we  say 
that  we  have  no  sin,5  &c.)  but  in  a  stedfast  purpose 
of  serving  God,  according  to  his  will ;  and  in  an  exe¬ 
cution  of  that  purpose,  though  often  interrupted  by  our 

T  o 

A  -v 


116 


lapses,  and,  therefore,  by  no  means  absolutely  perfect, 
yet  still,  devout,  sincere,  and  without  hypocrisy. 

‘  But  it  is  the  will  of  God,  that  we  should  address 
him  in  fervent  prayer;  that  we  should  give  thanks  to 
him,  in  and  for  all  things  ;  that  we  should  bear  all 
afflictions,  with  joyful  patience ;  that  we  should 
strenuously  war  against  the  foes  of  piety,  the  Devil, 
the  world,  our  own  flesh  and  blood  ;  and,  finally,  that 
we  should  devote  ourselves,  to  the  serious  pursuit  of 
piety  itself. 

‘Therefore,  the  perfect  Christian,  disburthens  all 
his  cares  into  the  bosom  of  God  :  gives  thanks  to  him 
in  all  things,  through  his  Son  Jesus  Christ  :  bears  all 
the  sorrows  and  afflictions  of  this  life,  with  joyful  pa¬ 
tience  ;  knowing,  that  they  are  all  from  the  Father, 
that  they  are  all  for  his  good,  that  they  are  all  sent, 
in  conformity  to  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and 
assured,  that  they  will  ail  terminate,  in  the  happy 
issue  of  immortal  glory  :  accordingly,  he  glories  even 
in  tribulation,  filled  with  the  joy  of  present  peace,  and 
future  exaltation.  The  perfect  Christian,  maintains  a 
good  combat,  by  fighting  against  all  the  enemies  of 
piety  ;  and,  if  not  always  utterly  subduing  them,  (for, 
even  in  the  saints,  the  wicked  flesh  sometimes  rebels 
against  the  spirit)  nevertheless,  bridling  them,  and 
taming  them  ;  and  that,  by  faith,  which  implicitly 
believes,  not  only  the  promises  made  to  the  obedient, 
but  the  threats  denounced  against  the  wicked  ;  by 
prayer,  which  daily  invokes  the  assistance  of  God; 
by  diligence,  which  thinks  on  his  ways,  which  re¬ 
strains  his  feet  from  every  evil  path,  which  associates 
him  with  all  those  that  fear  God,  and  keep  his  com¬ 
mandments.  Finally,  the  perfect  Christian,  devotes 
himself,  with  all  possible  zeal,  to  piety ;  and  conse¬ 
quently  (among  which  I  would  include  daily  peni- 


117 


tence),  to  the  exercise  of  all  good  works.  For  those 
words  of  Christ,  are  never  absent  from  his  ears,  4  the 
violent  take  the  kingdom  of  heaven  by  force.’  .  . 
*  Forgetting  those  things  which  are  behind,  and 
reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which  are  before,  he 
presses  toward  the  mark,  for  the  prize  of  the  high 
calling  in  Christ  Jesus.’ 

This  was  the  perfection,  of  pious  patriarchs,  kings 
and  prophets ;  this  was  the  perfection,  of  Zacharias 
and  Elizabeth.  This  was  the  perfection,  of  the 
apostles,  as  Saint  Paul  himself  testifies :  4  Let  us, 
therefore,  as  many  as  are  perfect,  be  thus  minded.’ 
This  perfection,  rendered  difficult  to  the  flesh,  is 
rendered  easy  to  the  spirit,  by  the  love  of  Christ, 
by  the  guidance  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  by  the  vivid 
seed  of  the  word  of  God,  in  the  hearts  of  the  re¬ 
generate.  For,  as  seven  years  hard  labour  was  sweet 
to  Jacob,  for  the  sake  of  Rachel,  whom  he  loved, 
so  the  love  of  Christ,  constraineth  us  to  dedicate  our 
entire  lives  to  him.  Nor  does  the  Spirit  of  God,  by 
which  we  are  led,  guide  us  any  where  else  than  to 
prayer,  to  a  joyful  suffering  of  evils,  to  a  struggle 
against  sin,  to  the  serious  pursuit  of  piety.  To  this, 
the  faithful,  moreover,  are  excited,  by  that  seed  of 
the  divine  word,  which  is  hid  within  them.  They 
meditate  on  those  passages  of  Scripture,  which  exhort 
to  holiness,  and  dissuade  from  sin.  Wherefore,  St. 
John  says,  4  Whosoever  is  born  of  God,  doth  not 
commit  sin,  for  his  seed  remaineth  in  him,  nor  can 
he  [presumptuously,  and  habitually]  sin,  because  he 
is  born  of  God.’ 

4  These  exercises  of  a  Christian  man,  though  they 
be  far  short  of  perfection,  are  yet  dignified  with  the 
name  of  perfection,  by  God ;  who  weighs  it,  not  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  rigorous  mosaic  letter,  but  by  the 

i  3 


118 


standard  of  evangelical  clemency.  The  voice  of  the 
law  is  terrible  :  People  of  Israel  do  not  sin ;  for, 
Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things, 
which  are  written  in  the  book  of  the  law,  to  do  them. 
But  the  voice  of  the  gospel  is  lovely  :  My  little  chil¬ 
dren,  sin  not ;  but  if  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advo¬ 
cate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous,  and 
he  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins ;  and  not  for  ours 
only,  but,  also,  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world. 


I  am  very  much  gratified  by  the  rapid  sale  of 
Bates  ;  but  I  fear  you  are  put  to  an  inconvenience, 
by  the  loss  of  yours.  If  the  Walkerites  have  fired 
another  shot  at  me,  will  you  have  the  goodness  to 
cause  the  report  to  reach  me  through  the  castle  ? 
And,  still  more,  will  you  give  me  some  hints,  for 
a  regular  plan  of  Scripture  study  ? 

Farewell,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  obliged  and  affectionate 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  14. 

April  10.  1804. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

1  thank  you  for  your  translation  of  Scultetus  :  I 
think  his  description  would  be  a  very  good  one,  if 
applied  to  the  confirmed  Christian  ;  . .  but,  as  referred 
to  the  perfect  Christian,  I  think  it  too  low.  It  is,  in  my 
mind,  an  error,  to  take  Old  Testament  attainments, 
as  indicating  the  evangelic  ne  plus  ultra.  ‘  He  that 


119 


is  least  in  the  kingdom,  is  greater  than  he,’  speaks  a 
different  language.  St.  John,  in  his  1st  Epistle, 
divides  Christians  into  three  gradations.  Little  chil¬ 
dren,  young  men,  and  fathers.  The  first  class  ‘  know 
the  Father/  and  ‘their  sins  are  forgiven.’  But  the 
second  class  are  ‘  strong,’  ‘  the  word  of  God  abideth 
in  them,  and  they  have  overcome  the  wicked  one.’ 
This,  I  conceive,  is  the  gradation,  to  which  Scultetus’s 
view  would  best  apply.  I  say  best,  because  I  see  no 
ground  for  admitting,  that,  even  in  this  class,  the 
stedfast  purpose  of  serving  God,  is  often  interrupted 
by  lapses  ;  or,  that  (of  necessity,)  the  flesh  sometimes 
rebels  against  the  spirit.  ‘Lapses’,  and  ‘rebels’,  are 
both  strong  expressions  ;  and  seem  to  me,  rather  to 
belong  to  the  lowest  class  of  spiritual  Christians,  than 
to  that  which  Saint  John  denominates,  young  men, 
i.  e.  as  I  said  (and  as  I  think  the  description  implies), 
confirmed  Christians.  There  are  abundance  of  mental 
irregularities,  and,  also,  scintillations  of  actual  pra- 
vity,  . .  vanity,  impatience,  self  will,  self  complacency, 
foolish  device,  .  .  and  even  of  grosser  evils,  (perhaps 
supposed  to  have  been  expelled  for  ever,  but  some¬ 
times,  at  an  unlooked  for  moment,  starting  up,  and 
so  pressing  upon  the  mind,  as  to  show,  that  they  can 
still  give  annoyance).  There  are,  I  say,  such  remains 
of  sin,  certainly,  in  Saint  John’s  second  class  ;  and 
perhaps,  some  remains  of  these  remains,  in  his  third  : 
and,  therefore,  even  the  highest  cannot  dare  to  lay 
claim,  to  absolute  sinlessness.  But,  even  in  the  con¬ 
firmed  Christian,  these  disagreeable  feelings  do  not 
occasion  lapses,  (if  they  do,  they  put  the  person 
down  a  class,  i.  e.  to  the  worst) ;  nor  are  their  move¬ 
ments  strong  enough,  to  be  denominated  rebellious. 
When  terms  are  transferred,  for  illustration’s  sake, 
from  the  external,  to  the  moral  world,  the  end  is 

l  4 


120 


ftot  answered,  if  strict  analogy  be  not  preserved.  I 
object,  therefore,  to  the  word,  rebels  ;  because,  we 
never  call  that  a  rebellion,  which  can  be  put  down 
by  police-men,  without  its  producing  an  overt-act. 

The  views  of  Scultetus,  are  very  tolerable,  for  the 
school  to  which  he  belonged :  but  it  was  a  uniform 
principle  with  all  calvinists,  and,  indeed,  I  believe, 
with  all  strict  followers  of  St.  Austin,  to  keep  down 
the  Christian  moral  character  ;  as  if  its  rising  too  high, 
was  inconsistent  with  the  honour  of  divine  grace. 
The  misinterpreted  passage  in  Rom.  vii.,  has  stood 
them  in  stead :  and  I  doubt  not  but  Scultetus  had 
this  distinctly  in  view,  when  he  spoke  of  lapses, 
and  rebelling,  of  the  wicked  flesh,  against  the  spirit. 
But,  you  are  sensible  as  I  am,  that  it  is  most  unfairly 
pressed  into  this  service.  I  own,  too,  I  cannot  like 
^  the  adding  to  Saint  John’s  4  sinneth  .not,’  the  quali¬ 
fying  term,  habitually .  Presumptuously ,  properly 

understood,  is  less  exceptionable.  But,  even  that, 
does  not,  I  conceive,  come  up  to  the  sense  of  the 
apostle.  He  certainly  could,  had  he  seen  fit,  have 
limited  his  own  expression.  He  could  have  put  in, 
habitually,  or  presumptuously,  as  well  as  any  of  his 
commentators.  But  that,  I  think,  would  not  have 
at  all  answered  his  purpose.  When  he  says,  ‘We 
know,  that  whosoever  is  born  of  God,  sinneth  not 
he  seems  to  me,  to  make  this  assertion.  .  .  He  that  is, 
really  and  truly,  renewed,  in  the  spirit  of  his  mind, 
by  the  regenerating  grace  of  Christ,  possesses  the 
power,  of  so  effectually  repressing  all  wrong  motions 
within,  and  of  resisting  or  guarding  against  all  tempt¬ 
ations  from  without,  that,  however  sensible  he  may 
be  of  painful  perturbations,  and  humbling  deficien¬ 
cies,  it  is  his  privilege  to  live,  without  bringing  actual 
guilt  on  his  conscience,  and  without  yielding,  even 


121 


by  volition,  to  the  sins  by  which  before,  he  was  led 
captive  ;  of  consequence,  without  grieving  the  Holy 
Spirit,  or  creating  an  absolute  estrangement;  how¬ 
ever  he  may  perceive  and  lament  transient  obscur¬ 
ations,  between  him  and  his  God.  It  is,  therefore,  in 
my  judgment,  Saint  John’s  idea,  to  assert  a  privilege, 
which  may  be  lived  up  to  ;  and,  doubtless,  has,  and  is, 
and  will  be,  though  in  too  few  instances,  yet,  I  firmly 
believe,  in  many  more,  than,  from  merely  looking  at 
the  outside  of  things,  one  could  have  an  idea  of.  If 
any  qualification,  then,  were  to  be  added,  I  think  it 
should  be,  sinneth  7iot  of  necessity  ;  that  is,  need  not 
sin,  and  will  not,  if  he  does  full  justice  to  himself. 
And  this,  I  conceive,  corresponds  most  strictly,  with 
what  immediately  follows  :  ‘  But  he  that  is  begotten  of 
God,  keepeth  himself;  and  that  wicked  one  toucheth 
him  not.’  The  interposed  condition  of  his  c  keeping 
himself,’  evidently  points  the  sense  to  what  he  may  do  ; 
not  to  what  he  certainly  will  do  ;  for,  though  he  be 
begotten,  or  born  of  God,  he  may,  or  may  not,  keep 
himself ;  and  the  consequence  will  be  accordingly. 
And,  therefore,  the  gospel  being  a  scheme  of  mercy  ; 
of  medicine  for  the  sick,  as  well  as  of  fit  nourishment 
for  the  convalescent ;  while  the  privilege  is  asserted, 
and  the  practicable  happy  result  described,  there  is, 
also,  a  kind  and  tender  supposition  of  that  infidelity 
to  received  grace,  which,  through  the  frailty  of  man’s 
nature,  and  the  dangerous  circumstances  in  which 
he  is  placed,  is,  ever  and  anon,  occurring  (yet,  not 
necessarily,  nor  of  course,  in  all) :  and  for  this,  ade¬ 
quate  provision  is  made  by  this  apostle  ;  for  instance, 

‘  If  any  man  sin,  &c.’ ;  and  by  Saint  Paul,  Gal. 
vi.  1,  where,  by  the  way,  the  Uveuyotrixoi  (compare 
1  Cor.  ii.  14,  &c.  and  iii.  1,  2,  3,  4.)  appear  to  me, 
evidently,  to  be  such,  as  retain  and  use  their  privilege 


122 


(as  described  above)  ;  such,  as  have  kept  themselves, 
and  whose  safety,  it  is  there  strongly  intimated,  de¬ 
pends  upon  their  still  keeping  themselves.  6  Con¬ 
sidering  thyself,  &c.’  So  that,  on  the  whole,  Saint 
John’s  character  is  that  of  the  true,  faithful,  uniform 
child  of  God  ;  of  what  every  child  of  God  has  power 
to  he,  but  not  what  every  child  of  God  actually  is. 
This  view,  in  my  opinion,  neither  dims  the  brightness 
of  evangelic  morality,  on  the  one  hand,  nor  diminishes 
the  cheering  warmth  of  evangelic  mercy,  on  the 
other.  It  holds  out  the  noblest  incitement,  to  such 
Christian  grace,  till  we  obtain  it ;  and,  when  we  ob¬ 
tain  it,  to  exercise  it  with  alacrity.  Since,  by  doing 
so,  we  shall  (as  St.  Peter  has  it),  4  be  kept  through 
the  power  of  God,  as  in  a  garrison’ :  and  enjoy  ha¬ 
bitually,  without  intermission,  though  not  without 
remission,  that,  4  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  un¬ 
derstanding.’  Yet  it  also  guards  against  depressing, 
the  weak,  or  stumbling  Christian ;  since  it  not  only 
provides  for  the  strengthening  of  such  as  do  stand, 
but,  also,  comforting  and  helping  the  weak-hearted ; 
and  even  for  raising  such  as  do  fall.  If,  however,  all 
this  were  my  view  only,  I  could  less  confidently 
maintain  it ;  but  it  is  peculiarly  that  of  our  friends 
the  platonists,  .  .  Lucas  having  explained  and  sup¬ 
ported  it  at  large,  and  even  of  Richard  Baxter,  as 
the  enclosed  extract  will,  I  think,  evince.  Farewell 
for  the  present.  I  will  not  burn  your  MS. 

Truly  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


12S 


FROM  BAXTER. 

‘  There  are  five  descriptions,  or  ranks,  of  true  Chris¬ 
tians,  observable.  1.  The  weakest  Christians,  who 
have  only  the  essentials  of  Christianity,  or  very  little 
more ;  as  infants,  that  are  alive,  but  of  very  little 
strength  or  use  to  others.  2.  Those  that  are  lapsed 
into  some  wounding  sin,  though  not  into  a  state  of 
damnation  ;  like  men  at  age,  who  have  lost  the  use 
of  some  one  member,  for  the  present,  though  they 
are  strong  in  other  parts.  3.  Those  that,  having  the 
integral  parts  of  Christianity  in  a  considerable  mea¬ 
sure,  are  in  a  sound  and  healthful  state  ;  though 
neither  perfect,  nor  of  the  highest  form  or  rank  of 
Christians,  in  this  life ;  nor  without  such  infirmities, 
as  are  the  matter  of  their  daily  watchfulness  and 
humiliation.  4.  Those  that  are  so  strong,  as  to  attain 
extraordinary  degrees  of  grace,  who  are,  therefore, 
comparatively  called  perfect ;  as  St.  Matt.  v.  45. 
5.  Those  that  have  an  absolute  perfection,  without 
sin,  i.  e.  the  heavenly  inhabitants.’ 

I  extract  this  from  Baxter’s  introduction  to  a  tract, 
called,  ‘  The  Character  of  a  sound,  confirmed  Chris¬ 
tian,’  &c.  After  the  above,  he  proceeds,  . .  4  Among 
all  these,  it  is  the  third  sort  or  degree,  which  I  have 
here  characterized.  I  meddle  not,  now,  with  the 
lapsed  Christian,  as  such  ;  nor  with  those  giants  in 
holiness,  of  extraordinary  strength  ;  nor  with  the 
perfect,  blessed  souls  in  heaven.  But  it  is  the  Chris¬ 
tian,  who  hath  attained  that  confirmation  in  grace,  .  . 
a  composed,  quiet,  fruitful  state,  which  we  might 
ordinarily  expect,  if  we  were  industrious,  .  .  whose 
image,  or  character,  I  shall  now  present  you  with.  I 


124 


call  him,  oft-times,  a  Christian  indeed ;  in  allusion  to 
Christ’s  description  of  Nathanael :  and  as  we  com¬ 
monly  use  that  word,  for  one  that  answereth  his 
own  profession,  without  any  notable  dishonour  or 
defect ;  as  we  say,  such  a  man  is  a  scholar  indeed  ; 
and  not  as  signifying  his  mere  sincerity.  I  mean 
one,  whose  heart  and  life  is  so  conformed  to  his 
principles,  .  .  the  rule,  and  the  hopes  of  Christianity, 
that,  to  the  honour  of  Christ,  the  true  nature  of  our 
religion  is  discernible  in  his  conversation,  St.  Matt.  v. 
16.  In  whom  an  impartial  infidel  might  perceive, 
the  true  nature  of  the  Christian  faith  and  godliness. 
If  the  world  were  fuller  of  such  living  images  of 
Christ,  who,  like  true  regenerate  children,  represent 
their  heavenly  Father,  Christianity  would  not  have 
met  with  so  much  prejudice ;  nor  had  so  many  ene¬ 
mies  in  the  world  ;  nor  would  so  many  millions  have 
been  kept,  in  the  darkness  of  heathenism  and  infi¬ 
delity,  by  flying  from  Christians,  as  a  sort  of  people, 
who  are  common  and  unclean.’ 

Baxter’s  Works ,  vol.  ii.  p.  965. 

P.  S.  I  think  you  will  see,  from  the  above,  that 
Baxter  (whose  1st,  3d,  and  4th  classes,  corresponded 
to  Saint  John’s  threefold  distinction),  agrees  with  me, 
in  ascribing  such  characters,  as  Scultetus  enumerates, 
to  the  confirmed,  rather  than  to  the  perfect,  Christian  : 
to  Saint  John’s  young  men,  not  to  his  fathers. 


125 


LETTER  XX. 
To  A .  Knox ,  Esq . 


Cashel,  May  7.  1804. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  thank  you  much,  for  your  very  just  and  judicious 
observations  on  Scultetus.  Your  view  is,  I  am  sure, 
right,  in  the  main;  and,  after  what  your  letter  ad¬ 
vances,  I  do  not  think  your  opinion  needs,  though  it 
is  certainly  corroborated  by,  the  authority  of  the 
platonists  and  Richard  Baxter.  The  more  I  think 
on  the  subject,  and  the  more  I  look  around  me  in 
the  world,  the  more  thoroughly  I  am  convinced, 
that  infinite  mischief  arises,  from  fixing  the  standard 
of  Christian  perfection  too  low.  I  see  many  worthy 
people,  that  would  be  really  much  better  than  they 
are,  if  their  views  permitted  them  to  aim  at  higher 
attainments,  than  they  mark  out  for  themselves.  As, 
1  believe,  I  one  day  observed  to  you,  *  Possunt  quia 
posse  videntur’,  and  its  converse,  apply,  accurately, 
in  the  case  of  practical  theology. 

The  archbishop  has  enlisted  me  to  preach  the  Fast 
sermon  this  month,  in  his  cathedral.  I  think  of 
taking  for  my  text,  Isaiah  xxii.  12  .  .  14. ;  which,  with 
its  context,  is  not  inapposite  to  our  present  situation. 
If  any  brief  skeleton  hints  should  occur  to  you,  they 
would  be  truly  acceptable ;  at  the  same  time,  I  do 
not  wish  you  to  move  one  inch  out  of  your  way  in 
this  matter. 

I  wrote  lately  to  Mr.  Granville  Sharp*  ;  and  con- 


*  Bishop  Jebb’s  acquaintance  with  this  eminent  and  excellent  person,  arose 


126 


suited  him  on  the  propriety  and  feasibility  of  a  cor¬ 
responding  board  in  London.  This  communication 
on  the  business,  is  merely  private :  of  course,  it  does 
not  at  all  commit  the  association  ;  while  it  may  be  in¬ 
strumental  in  feeling  the  way,  before  any  steps  are 
taken  by  the  body  itself.  I  should  think  Mr.  Sharp 
an  exceeding  likely  person,  both  to  engage  warmly 
in  the  establishment,  and  to  weigh,  with  judgment, 
the  probabilities  in  its  favour.  The  idea  of  applying 
to  him  was  suggested,  by  seeing  his  name  as  president 
to  the  new  Bible  society,  to  which,  in  a  very  few 
days,  1000/.  was  subscribed. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Sir, 

and  believe  me  most  truly  and 
affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  15. 

May  15.  1804. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  am  ashamed  of  having  been  so  long  without  no¬ 
ticing  yours  of  the  7th.  But  I  have  been  more  than 
usually  occupied,  in  my  thoughts,  and  in  time.  My 
silence,  however,  is  not  to  be  taken  as  a  mark  of 
negligence  or  inattention  ;  for  I  really  am  always 
glad,  when  I  receive  a  letter  from  you.  The  first 


from  his  being  executor  to  the  will  of  his  cousin,  Sir  Richard  Jebb,  Bart.,  phy¬ 
sician  to  George  III.  The  bishop  was  fond  of  mentioning  a  characteristic  little 
circumstance,  connected  with  Mr.  Sharp’s  discharge  of  this  trust.  Having 
handed  over  to  the  residuary  legatee  the  personal  property,  he  closed  the  trans¬ 
action  by  presenting  him  with  a  last  remnant,  .  .  three  fence  half-penny,  which  he 
had  found  in  an  old  drawer.  Ed. 


127 


paragraph,  for  example,  in  the  letter  now  acknow¬ 
ledged,  was  most  gratifying  to  me.  You  say  just 
what  I  think ;  and  I  received  it,  as  your  sentiment, 
with  peculiar  pleasure. 

I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  could  say  any  thing,  about 
your  intended  text.  It  contains  nothing  recondite. 
It  is,  merely,  a  terrible  description  of  profligate 
times ;  and  it  too  well  accords  with  the  present. 
The  resemblance  may  too  easily  be  traced  ;  and  he 
that  looks  at  society  cannot  miss  it.  But  it  is  too 
much  of  a  locus  communis,  to  find  any  thing  new  in  ; 
nor  do  I  well  know  what  to  do  with  it.  It  is,  as 
it  appears  to  me,  not  only  a  common  ;  but  I  see  no 
path  marked  in  it.  Still,  however,  I  am  very  sure, 
you  can  draw  out  of  it,  or  rather,  ground  upon  it, 
much  serious  and  useful  observation.  The  last  verse 
contains  a  tremendous  denunciation  ;  which  will  be 
best,  perhaps,  applied,  by  showing,  from  it,  that  there 
is  a  state  of  guilt,  which  does  provoke  God  to  pro¬ 
nounce  an  irreversible  sentence ;  and  that,  though  it 
may  be  hoped,  strong  as  our  similarity  is  to  those 
profane  Jews,  that  such  a  sentence  is  not  yet  pro¬ 
nounced  against  us ;  yet  our  undeniable  resemblance* 
unquestionably  implies  our  desperate  hazard,  if  we 
do  not  ‘  break  off  our  sins  by  repentance  and  turn 
to  him,  from  whom  we  have  so  deeply  revolted. 

If  St.  Bernard’s  works  be  in  the  Cashel  library, 
look  out  for,  and  read,  a  short  tract,  near  the  middle 
of  the  book  (if  it  be  the  Antwerp  edition,  1616,  you 
will  find  it  p.  11 27*)*  I  never  saw  a  more  complete 
piece  of  methodism ;  and,  though  it  rises  higher 
in  that  way,  than  my  taste  goes,  or,  rather,  describes 
a  methodistic  conversion,  to  which  nothing  I  have 
felt,  closely  approaches,  yet  I  think  it  is  curious  and 
interesting ;  and  I  am  glad  to  find  such  feelings,  so 


128 


distinctly  narrated,  by  so  eminent  a  writer  of  the 
twelfth  century. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  St.  Bernard’s  piety,  derived 
much  of  its  pabulum  from  the  Cantica  Canticorum. 
I  also  remember,  that  Dr.  Watts  apologizes,  for 
having  imitated  that  sacred  poem,  so  much  as  he  had 
done,  in  his  earlier  days ;  but  declares  his  more  ma¬ 
tured  judgment  to  be,  for  more  rational  language,  in 
matters  of  devotion.  But,  may  not  the  wonderful 
turn  of  that  poem,  have  peculiarly  fitted  it  for  aiding 
piety,  in  darker,  and  coarser  times :  for,  in  short, 
forcing  some  subtle  schoolmen,  to  think  of  what 
was  inward  and  experimental?  For,  be  it  observed, 
that,  if  that  book  be  divine  at  all,  it  can  be  inter¬ 
preted  only  in  an  experimental  way ;  I  mean,  in 
suddenness.  Every  thing  else,  I  know  something 
about,  I  hope.  It  must  describe  the  spiritual  va¬ 
rieties  of  the  inner  man,  .  .  or  nothing  at  all.  To 
hold  this  book,  therefore,  to  be  divine,  was  the 
admission  of  inward  religion,  in  that  sense,  which 
methodists  hold,  at  this  day.  And  to  sit  down  to 
study  this  book,  was,  of  course,  to  investigate,  to 
dwell  upon,  and  to  particularize,  spiritual  feelings. 
From  this,  I  fully  grant,  much  fancifulness  could  not 
but  arise :  yet,  was  not  such  fancifulness,  better  than 
formal  superstition?  in  which  all  outward  religion 
then  consisted.  In  short,  if  inward  piety  had  not 
laid  hold  of  their  imagination,  it  had  little  else  to 
work  upon.  And  to  provide,  beforehand,  a  medium, 
through  which,  as  through  a  prism,  it  might  be 
coloured,  in  a  way  fitted  to  that  ignorant  age,  was 
a  design  worthy  of  divine  condescension. 

Farewell,  believe  me  always  your  faithful  friend, 

Alex.  Knox. 


129 


LETTER  16. 

To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehb. 

Bellevue,  June  5.  1804. 

My  worthy  Friend, 

I  have  been  strangely  omissive,  in  not  even  acknow¬ 
ledging,  your  most  acceptable,  and  valuable  commu¬ 
nication  ;  but  it  found  me  answering  a  Chancery  bill  ; 
and,  then,  I  was  bound  to  hasten  hither.  Yester¬ 
day  was  occupied,  in  the  most  delightful  fete  I 
ever  witnessed,  the  yearly  meeting,  of  the  Delganny 
friendly  societies ;  so  that,  I  may  say,  this  morning 
is  the  first  time,  that  I  could,  with  any  comfort,  sit 
down  to  thank  you,  which  I  do  most  cordially.  Some¬ 
time  or  other,  I  shall  probably  trouble  you,  with  a 
few  particular  observations  on  your  sermon  ;  one  or 
two  things  in  which  (had  I  seen  it  before  delivery) 
I  should  have  advised  the  retrenching,  or  modifying 
of.  But  what  are  these  ?  Truly,  your  view  of  things 
delights  me.  Never  did  I  receive  more  real  grati¬ 
fication,  than  from  your  sermon #,  and  your  letter. 
May  you  only  grow,  as  you  appear  to  me  to  have 
begun,  in  affection  to  what  is  good ;  and  in  regulating 
that  affection,  by  sound  wisdom  and  discretion  ;  and 
I  trust,  not  only  you,  but  many  others  for  you,  will 
bless  and  praise  God  that  ever  you  were  born. 

I  must  not  add  more  at  present,  than  that  I  am, 
most  cordially, 

Yours  always, 

Alex.  Knox. 

*  For  the  discourse  here  referred  to,  see  Bishop  Jebb’s  ‘  Sermons  on  Subjects 
chiefly  practical,’  sermon  iii.  En. 

VOL.  1.  K 


130 


LETTER  17. 

June  21.  1804. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  have  wished  to  write  to  you  more  fully,  ever  since 
I  wrote  the  few  lines  from  Bellevue.  I  then  told  you 
there  were  one  or  two  things  in  your  sermon,  on 
which  I  meant  to  remark.  I  now  sit  down  to  do  so, 
if  I  be  permitted ;  an  event  which  I  am  by  no  means 
sure  of. 

Your  own  objections,  are  not  unfounded  in  fact  ; 
but,  all  circumstances  considered,  they  amount  but 
to  a  slight  charge.  I  wonder,  rather,  that  what  you 
were  obliged  to  write  so  expeditiously,  should,  in  many 
parts,  be  written  so  wonderfully  well.  Your  animated 
paragraphs,  in  the  second  and  third  sheets,  respecting 
living  in  the  world,  and  not  carrying  religion  into 
the  whole  of  life,  or  regarding  it  as  an  inward  para- 
mount  principle,  are  perhaps  as  well  written  as  they 
easily  could  be.  Matter,  and  manner,  are  both  ex¬ 
cellent.  Upon  this,  I  ground  my  highest  approbation  ; 
not,  however,  depreciating  several  other  parts. 

I  begin  to  object,  where,  in  the  first  words  of  the 
sentence,  or  paragraph,  you  bespeak  my  peculiar 
praise.  I  cordially  agree  with  you,  that  there  is  no 
worse  evil,  than  lowering  the  standard  of  Christian 
rectitude ;  but  I  do  not  trace  this  to  St.  Austin’s 
school,  on  the  one  hand,  nor  do  I  echo  your  censure 
of  certain  enthusiastic  zealots,  on  the  other.  I  disap¬ 
prove,  with  you,  of  the  lowering  views  of  the  calvin¬ 
ists  ;  and  I  object  seriously,  to  many  things  said  by 
wesleians,  on  the  opposite  side ;  but  it  is  my  strong 
persuasion,  that  at  this  time,  neither  ought  to  be 


131 


personally  pointed  at  in  the  pulpit.  Between  them,  I 
fear  they  contain  the  far  greater  part  of  the  operative 
religion  of  these  countries  ;  nor  can  I  imagine,  where 
religion  would,  at  this  day,  be,  had  not  their  activities 
been  called  forth.  I  would  wish  for  something  much 
better,  than  the  gross  of  either  ;  but,  until  that  comes, 
I  will  be  cautious  in  censuring,  lest  I  should  go  coun¬ 
ter  to  our  Saviour’s  intimation  :  4  Forbid  him  not,  for 
he  that  is  not  with  us  is  against  us.’ 

It  is  my  belief,  that  no  good  is  ever  done,  by  direct 
attack  of  uiy  body  of  people.  If  any  of  that  body 
hear  it,  it  revolts  them,  and  increases  their  preju¬ 
dices.  Others,  who  hear  it,  misunderstand  it,  and 
apply  it  as  their  fancies  lead  them.  Rumours  are 
spread,  that  the  minister  preached  against  the  me- 
thodists,  or  evangelics,  or  whomsoever  it  be  :  and,  by 
this,  a  wrong  spirit,  unfavourable  to  the  usefulness  of 
the  preacher,  perhaps  to  the  church  to  which  he  be¬ 
longs,  is  propagated.  My  opinion  is,  that  the  safest 
way  of  combating  error,  is,  to  lay  down  the  opposite 
truth,  with  due  cautionary  observations,  in  the  most 
dispassionate  manner.  Then,  no  offence  can  be 
taken  ;  no  passion  justly  excited  ;  but,  the  apostle’s 
rule  being  adhered  to,  aXrjSsuovTsg  eu  the  best 

effects  may  be  hoped  for. 

Besides,  to  say  nothing  of  my  friends,  the  wes- 
leians,  I  own,  with  all  their  error  and  perplexity,  I 
have  a  deep  respect  for  calvinists,  or  rather  augusti- 
nians.  Their  system,  faulty  as  it  is,  has,  in  my  judg¬ 
ment,  served  noble  purposes  in  the  world.  Nor  can 
I  well  conceive,  how  experimental  religion  could 
have  been  maintained,  in  those  dark  ages,  without  it. 
I  cannot  but  think,  that,  as  (in  my  mind),  the  Roman 
catholic  ceremonies  were  permitted,  in  order  to  keep 
up  professional,  or  visible  Christianity,  in  the  dark 

k  2 


1 3°2 


ages  of  society,  so,  Augustine’s  subtleties,  were  no 
less  wisely  ordered,  for  the  purpose  of  sustaining 
practical  and  invisible  Christianity.  As  the  ceremo¬ 
nies  contained  within  them,  a  substance  of  Christian 
worship,  .  .  so  those  subtleties,  still  more  necessarily, 
contain  within  them,  the  reality  of  experimental  re¬ 
ligion.  No  man  can  be  a  romanist,  who  does  not 
hold,  in  theory  at  least,  all  the  essentials  of  the 
Christian  religion.  And  no  man  can  be  an  augustinian, 
who  does  not  hold  the  essentials  of  experimental  reli¬ 
gion.  I  do,  humbly  1  hope,  admire  then,  the  fathom¬ 
less  wisdom  of  heaven  ;  which  permitted  Christianity 
to  embody  itself  in  sensible  rites,  when,  without  such 
rites,  the  savage  multitude  might,  probably,  not  have 
been  impressed  at  all.  And  I  equally  view  with 
wonder  and  pleasure,  the  metaphysical  mind  of  St. 
Austin,  unconsciously  enclosing  vital  Christianity,  in 
a  system  of  his  own  fabrication ;  which  system,  by 
its  appositeness  to  the  first  workings  of  intellect,  in 
its  progress  from  barbarism  to  high  improvement, 
should,  by  attracting  and  engaging  a  strong  mental 
appetite,  ensure  the  perpetuation,  and  extended  re¬ 
ception,  of  the  blessed  nucleus  within.  This,  I  so¬ 
berly  take  to  be  the  final  cause  of  augustinian,  and 
calvinistic  subtlety.  And  I  do  believe,  when  its  func¬ 
tion  is  completed,  it  will  fall  off  of  itself.  It  certainly 
has,  on  experimental  religion,  much  of  the  same 
effect,  which  popish  worship  has  had  on  Christianity : 
but,  while  it  has  lessened  its  amiableness,  it  has,  under 
God’s  blessing,  ensured  its  being  attentively  examined 
and  cultivated.  In  fact,  it  has  given  a  body  to  it, 
which,  I  must  say,  strikes  me,  as  having  been  highly 
indispensable,  and  infinitely  beneficial. 

Even  at  this  day,  I  fear  the  corporeal  integuments 
of  Calvinism,  could  scarcely  be  spared.  As  the 


romish  worship  bribes  the  imagination  of  the  vulgar ; 
so  Calvinism  bribes  the  reasoning  faculty  of  sciolists. 
The  former  gives  attractiveness,  and  palpability  to 
outward ;  and  the  latter,  (as  I  conceive)  to  inward 
religion.  The  one,  furnishes  objects  to  be  gazed  at ; 
the  other,  affords  subjects  to  be  talked  of.  And,  by 
every  thing  I  can  discover,  this  last  is  just  as  neces¬ 
sary  for  half  thinkers,  as  pomp  and  show  are,  for 
those  who  do  not  reason  at  all.  On  the  whole,  as 
the  ceremonial  of  romish  worship,  was  the  means 
of  keeping  up,  through  the  dark  ages,  a  visible 
church,  within  which,  real  Christianity  deeply  and  ex¬ 
tensively  diffused  itself;  so,  augustinian  orthodoxy 
has  formed,  as  it  were,  the  interior  membrane,  and 
temporary  vascular  apparatus,  of  the  invisible  church  ; 
and  perhaps  must,  in  part,  so  remain,  until  that  mystic 
second  birth  of  Christianity  shall  take  place,  when 
the  fulness  of  the  Gentiles  shall  come  in,  and  all  Israel 
shall  be  saved. 

Before  you  reject  all  this  as  fanciful  theory,  ex¬ 
amine  well,  what  augustinian  orthodoxy  necessarily 
contains  in  it.  In  maintaining  the  irresistible  effi¬ 
cacy  of  divine  grace,  Augustine,  and  his  followers, 
raised,  both  this  heavenly  principle,  and  its  fruits,  to 
a  height,  beyond  the  reach  of  mere  human  nature. 
Pelagius,  whom  he  opposed,  represented  it  as  within 
human  reach  ;  and,  in  fact,  I  presume,  as  a  human 
business  throughout :  implying  no  radical  change  of 
nature,  but  mere  melioration  and  improvement. 
Austin,  in  opposing  him,  went,  doubtless,  to  an 
extreme  :  but,  then,  it  was  the  safe  side,  for  spiritual 
religion  ;  since,  in  exalting  the  efficient  principle,  he 
necessarily  exalted  its  natural  and  necessary  results. 
Where  God  himself  works,  it  will  be  expected,  or 
rather  relied  upon,  that  the  work  will  be  like  himself. 

k  3 


134 


Augustine,  therefore,  in  making  so  very  much  of 
grace,  could  never  make  little  of  the  work  of  grace. 
And,  accordingly,  we  see,  that,  in  no  instance,  is  the 
transit,  from  a  state  of  moral  bondage,  to  that  of 
spiritual  liberty,  more  strikingly  described,  than  in 
St.  Austin’s  own  account  of  himself.  For  illustration 
of  all  this,  see  his  Confessions,  lib.  ix.  cap.  1. 

I  am  aware,  that,  in  his  zeal  against  pelagianism, 
he  was  led  to  misconstrue  the  7th  to  the  Romans  ; 
and  thus,  lest  he  should  allow  too  much,  to  him  who 
was  not  regenerate,  he,  by  consequence,  allows  too 
little,  to  him  that  is.  But  I  believe  it  would  be  well, 
if  all,  who,  at  this  day,  agree  with,  and  so  zealously 
contend  for  his  interpretation  of  that  passage,  held 
that  sense  of  it,  as  harmlessly  as  he.  For  I  am  sure, 
he  never  dreamed  of  affording  the  shadow  of  a  plea, 
for  practical  relaxedness.  On  the  contrary,  both  he 
and  St.  Jerome,  seem  to  have  held  something  very 
like  the  perfection  of  John  Wesley,  and  Dr.  Lucas. 
‘Etenim,  absque  vitio,’  says  the  latter,  4  quod  grsece 
dicitur  K axia,  hominem  posse  esse  aio :  AvapapTyTov, 
id  est,  sine  peccato  esse,  nego.’#  And  St.  Austin 
similarly  says,  that  a  man  may  be  ‘sine  crimine,’  but 
not  ‘  sine  peccato.’  I  do  acknowledge,  that  John 
Wesley  seems  to  go  farther  ;  and  to  insist  on  living 
without  sin  :  but  his  sin,  is  not  St.  Austin’s,  nor 
Jerome’s  peccatum ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  quite 
identifies  with  the  xaxioc,  or  vitium  of  the  one,  and 
the  crimen  of  the  other ;  his  express  definition  of  sin 
being,  the  wilful  transgression  of  a  known  law.  I 
own,  however,  that  Austin’s  department  seems  rather, 
on  the  whole,  to  have  been  the  laying  a  deep  founda¬ 
tion  of  practical  religion,  than  the  raising  a  high 

*  That  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  be  without  vice,  I  affirm  ;  that  it  is  possible 
for  him  to  be  without  sin,  I  deny. 


13.5 


superstructure.  ‘  All  members,5  says  St.  Paul,  ‘  have 
not  the  same  office.5  This  latter,  therefore,  I  humbly 
conceive  to  have  been  the  especial  department  of  the 
platonists  ;  and  of  such  writers  of  that  day,  as  Chry¬ 
sostom.  Nothing  can  be  more  exalted  than  Chry¬ 
sostom’s  views  of  devotion  :  yet,  certainly,  he  was 
obscure,  as  to  many  important  first  principles.  To 
discover  these,  required,  in  the  nature  of  things,  a 
subtle  and  penetrating  mind  ;  and  such,  doubtless, 
was  Augustine’s.  He  over-went  the  boundary  of 
right  reason,  I  grant  (at  least  I  think  so  with  you, 
and  so  many  others),  but  he  did  not  the  less  reclaim, 
the  important  ground  that  lay  within  ;  and  on  which, 
he  first,  after  the  apostles,  appears  to  me  to  have 
bestowed  successful  labour.  In  fact,  I  do  think 
the  school  he  formed,  was,  from  his  time  onward, 
the  chief  nursery  of  piety  in  the  roman  catholic 
church.  Out  of  it,  as  I  conceive,  came  Bernard  and 
Anselm  ;  though  seven  centuries  after.  And,  from 
these,  came  the  school  divines ;  who,  I  suspect,  have 
done  more  service  to  Christianity  (by  showing  its 
connection  with  philosophic  truth,  and  evincing  that 
it  would  bear  the  closest  reasoning),  than  most 
moderns  are  aware  of.  I  have  been  surprised,  by 
quotations  from  Aquinas  :  they  contain  so  much 
strictness  and  consecutiveness.  Mr.  Kirwan*  (not 
the  dean)  accounts  him  one  of  the  most  powerful- 
minded  writers,  perhaps,  in  the  world.  But  one 
remarkable  growth  from  Augustine’s  plantation, 
even  in  latter  times,  was  jansenism.  To  him  the 
pious  originator  of  that  sect  turned,  as  to  an  authority 
which  the  Romish  church  particularly  venerated ; 
and  a  standard  which  he  knew  would  support  that 

*  Late  president  of  the  Royal  Irish  Academy  .  .  .  Ed. 

K  4 


136 


scheme  of  inward  and  divine  religion,  which  he 
wished  to  revive.  The  book  he  first  published,  you 
know,  he  called  4  Augustinus  as  actually  containing 
a  summary  of  that  father’s  doctrine.  Probably,  even 
then,  a  doctrine  more  consonant  with  what  you  and 
I  conceive  truth,  might  have  had  little  effect ;  as  not, 
perhaps,  having  a  current  strong  enough,  to  work  its 
way  through  the  stagnant  lake  of  popery.  As  it  was, 
I  am  sure,  much  good  was  done,  and  good  will  ever 
be  doing  while  the  world  stands,  by  those  Port  Royal 
writers. 

I  must,  however,  recur  to  a  distinction  made 
above,  of  laying  the  foundation,  and  of  raising  the 
superstructure.  1  made  the  observation  extempore  ; 
but,  on  looking  more  at  it,  1  doubt  if  it  may  not  be 
illustrated  by  many  striking  facts.  St.  Paul  hints 
at  such  a  distinction  of  gifts,  in  both  his  figures,  of 
planting,  and  building.  c  I  have  planted ;  Apollos 
watered.’  ‘  I,  as  a  wise  master  builder,  have  laid 
the  foundation  ;  and  another  buildeth  thereon  ;  but 
let  every  man  take  heed  how  he  buildeth  thereon  : 
if  any  man  build  upon  this  foundation,  gold,  silver, 
precious  stones,  wood,  hay,  stubble,  &c.’  And  the 
difference  of  the  work,  is  still  more  clearly  indicated 
in  Heb.  vi.  1.  Therefore  leaving,  &c.  Aio  assures 
tov  T7]g  a%%r}S  too  X^io-too  “Xoyou,  G7ri  ty]U  t  £"h£  ioty]T  cl 
CpS^CUfJLsdor  fAY)  TTCLhlV  Ss[As7iiou  xoltoc£<xX7^o[asvoi,  fASTavoiag 
CL7T0  VSXfXDV  EpyCOV,  XCLl  1 TKTTECOg  £7 71  ©£0J/.  Which  eX- 

hortation  would  imply,  that  this  progress  was,  by 
no  means,  a  thing  of  course :  and,  even  more 
clearly,  that  the  means  of  advancement  were  some¬ 
what  of  a  different  nature,  and  to  be  differently 
managed,  from  those  of  laying  the  foundation. 
Now,  compare  these  Scriptures,  with  what  I  said 
above,  of  Austin  and  his  followers,  on  the  one 


13? 


hand,  and  of  Chrysostom,  and  the  platonic  divines, 
on  the  other;  and  judge,  whether  the  striking  dis¬ 
similitude  between  them,  may  not  providentially 
correspond,  to  this  important  difference  of  purpose  ; 
yea,  and  farther,  whether  the  theology  of  Austin, 
may  not  have  been,  and  still  be,  the  providential 
caisson ,  within  which,  it  became  necessary  for  the 
foundation-builders  to  lay  their  work ;  in  conse¬ 
quence  of  a  deep  swampiness  in  the  human  soil, 
which  we  have  reason  to  hope  is  under  a  gradual 
corrective  process,  but  is  by  no  means  yet  done 
away  ? 

But,  when  men  are  accustomed  to  a  particular 
work,  they  magnify  its  importance  ;  and  are  naturally 
loth  to  allow  the  necessity  of  any  other.  Therefore 
is  it,  that  the  above  exhortation  was  so  strongly 
given,  and  has  been  so  rarely  taken.  They  are 
urged  to  leave  the  first  principles,  and  not  lay  again, 
&c.  But,  how  seldom  have  they  done  this  ?  On 
the  contrary,  they  love  the  dark  hollow,  in  which 
they  work ;  and  would  insist,  that  the  fabric  should 
never  rise  above  their  favourite  caisson.  6  To  go  on 
to  perfection/  is  the  scripture  rule  ;  but  they  have 
become  impatient  of  the  very  name.  They  protest 
against  it,  as  dishonourable  to  the  foundation. 
Hence,  then,  the  necessity  of  generally  appointing 
a  distinct  set  of  workmen  ;  who,  so  far  from  having 
that  undue  attachment  to  first  principles,  might,  in 
that  respect,  be  deemed  even  deficient,  if  their 
peculiar  distinction  was  not  kept  in  view. 

Thus,  as  I  said,  Chrysostom  was  a  superstructure- 
man  ;  while  Austin  was  sinking  the  foundation  :  and, 
therefore,  you  see  the  former  as  jealous  for  holi¬ 
ness,  as  the  other  for  efficacious  grace.  You  no 
doubt  remember  the  indignant  passage,  quoted  in 


138 


the  Christ.  Obs.,  from  Chrysostom,  respecting  the 
applying  to  St.  Paul,  what  he  says,  in  the  7th  of 
Romans.  Augustine,  however,  as  you  know,  made 
this  application  :  not,  certainly,  because  he  wished  to 
cherish  depravity  in  the  regenerate ;  but  because  he 
was  puzzled  how,  consistently  with  the  exclusive 
influence  of  effectual  grace,  to  ascribe  ‘  consenting  to 
the  law,’  and  ‘  delighting  in  the  law,’  to  every  one, 
not  savingly  wrought  upon.  This  misinterpretation, 
however,  though  not  arising  from  antinomian  views, 
has,  doubtless,  led  to  them.  Yet,  almost  all  Austin’s 
followers  have  persevered  in  it ;  and,  as  you  see, 
fight  for  it  to  this  day.  Whereas,  on  the  other  hand, 
all  those,  whom  I  deem  superstructure-men,  agree  in 
rejecting  St.  Austin’s  opinion  ;  and  either  explain 
those  passages  in  St.  Paul,  of  the  wholly  un regene¬ 
rate,  as  do  Jeremy  Taylor  and  Dr.  Hammond  ;  or 
I  (as  I  take  it,  much  more  soundly)  of  the  man  inter 
regenerandum ,  in  whom  the  work  is  commenced, 
but  yet  imperfect,  as  does  Dr.  Jackson.  Now 
these,  I  conceive,  are  they,  whose  principles  lead 
them  sig  just  as  naturally,  as  the  others 

are  held  back,  by  theirs.  And,  therefore,  I  infer, 
that  superstructure  work,  is  the  providential  destiny 
of  the  one  ;  and  foundation  work,  that  of  the  other. 

While  writing  these  observations,  I  remember, 
that,  four  months  ago,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  I 
was  led  to  view  some  part  of  the  present  subject ; 
though  with  a  different  view,  from  what  I  have  had 
at  present.  I  will  transcribe  part  of  what  I  then 
wrote,  that  you  may  see  how  far  it  quadrates  with 
the  above  remarks. 

c  That  class  to  which  Bishop  Burnet  belonged, 
though,  as  I  intimated  above,  somewhat  less  evan¬ 
gelical  than  might  be  wished,  have,  nevertheless, 


139 


done  noble  justice  to  inward  religion.  They  do  not 
sufficiently  magnify  the  office  of  our  Saviour  (though 
they  by  no  means  lower  his  nature)  ;  yet  they  have 
caught  the  vital  spirit  of  his  divine  doctrine  ;  and 
excellently  describe  the  radical  change,  which  the  in¬ 
fluences  of  God’s  grace  produce,  where  they  are  per- 
severingly  implored,  and  cordially  embraced.  Limas’s 
Inquiry  after  Happiness,  is  admirable  in  this  respect ; 
and  so  is  that  beautiful  epitome  of  revealed  religion, 
Scougal’s  Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of  Man. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  the  religion  of  the  Gospel 
should  have  been  so  sublimely  apprehended  by  those, 
who  appear  to  have  been,  comparatively,  less  im¬ 
pressed  with  evangelic  (i.  e.  mediatorial)  views. 
They  were,  however,  substantially  impressed  by 
them ;  though  disgust  at  the  puritanic  dialect,  and, 
indeed,  also,  at  the  puritanic  excesses,  led  them  to 
ideas  and  expressions  of  a  more  philosophic  kind.] 

(  Unfinished,') 


LETTER  18. 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehh. 


About  Oct.  1804. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  my  apparent  negligence  of 
you.  Yet,  I  may  truly  say,  there  is  no  negligence  of 
you  in  my  heart ;  but,  somehow  or  other,  my  time 
passes  away  so,  that  if  I  do  not  write  letters  before 
breakfast,  I  am  led,  almost  of  necessity,  to  put  them 
off,  from  day  to  day. 


140 


I  have  long  been  meditating  a  voluminous  letter 
to  you  ;  but,  though  I  have  twice  attempted  it,  bilious¬ 
ness  has  constrained  me  to  break  off :  I  hope,  how¬ 
ever,  not  finally ;  and  yet,  when  I  shall  be  able  to 
complete  my  design,  I  cannot  say  :  as  indisposition 
still  hangs  about  me ;  on  account  of  which,  I  am 
going  to  take  a  tour,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Irish 
channel.  About  the  beginning  of  next  week,  I 
expect  to  be  on  my  way  to  Waterford  :  where,  with 
the  permission  of  Providence,  I  intend  to  embark,  in 
order  to  go  through  S.  Wales  to  Bristol. 

The  great  object  of  my  long  letter  was,  to  con¬ 
vince  you  that  there  are  the  strongest  and  soundest 
reasons,  why  nothing  should  be  said  from  the  pulpit, 
in  these  times,  that  either  calvinists,  or  wesleians, 
could  consider  personal  or  pointed.  I  wished  to 
show,  that  truth  may  be  better  served,  by  the  judi¬ 
cious,  and  dispassionate  exhibition  of  itself,  than  by 
any  other  kind  of  attack  on  the  abettors  of  error ; 
and  that  this  latter  method  implies  much  risk  to  the 
interests  of  the  established  church  ;  which,  in  Ire¬ 
land,  I  conceive,  would  be  much  injured,  by  a  seces¬ 
sion  of  the  wesleian  methodists. 

In  fact,  I  do  think,  that  to  err  on  the  side  of 
good  nature,  will  always  be  safest ;  and  besides,  I 
am  persuaded,  that  the  methodists,  as  a  body,  the 
wesleians  I  mean,  deserve  far  more  credit,  for  what 
they  believe  rightly,  than  censure,  for  what  they 
think  erroneously.  And,  particularly,  their  doctrine 
of  perfection,  in  my  mind,  merits  peculiar  delicacy 
of  treatment :  the  truth  and  excellence  of  it  being 
most  substantial;  and  the  fault  of  it  being,  rather 
infelicity  of  expression,  and  misconception  about 
some  circumstances,  than  any  radically  false  view. 

You  may  perceive,  I  am  alluding  to  a  few  words  in 


141 


your  most  interesting  sermon,  which,  I  own,  I  could 
have  wished  not  to  have  been  there.  Much  that 
you  said  before,  was  fitted  to  attract  and  engage  the 
methodists.  Why,  then,  add  any  thing,  that  they 
could  be  hurt  by?  I  am  sure  you  meant  no  such 
thing ;  and  yet  I  do  think,  your  mention  of  extrava¬ 
gant  assertors  of  perfection,  as  opposed  to  augus- 
tinians,  had  that  tendency. 

My  dear  friend,  I  know  your  deep,  and  unqualified 
integrity ;  and  I  am  sure  it  was  this  feeling  led  you 
to  think  as  you  did ;  and  you  thought  it  necessary, 
and  therefore  resolved,  to  speak  plainly.  But  wherein 
does  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent  consist,  if  not  in 
keeping  'within,  a  great  deal  of  what  we  think  ;  and 
of  course,  in  modifying  blunt  honesty  of  manner, 
though  ever  without  losing  any  thing  of  the  sub¬ 
stance  ? 

Confident  I  am,  no  good  can  be  done  to  persons, 
of  whatever  description,  by  directly  pointing  to 
them.  It  hardens  them  in  their  error  ;  and  it  un¬ 
duly  gratifies  those,  who  are  enemies  to  them,  not 
on  account  of  their  errors,  but  of  their  real  virtues. 
I  have  talked  a  good  deal,  with  persons  of  different 
opinions  from  my  own  ;  and  I  ever  found,  that  what 
was  pleasantest,  was  also  best  as  to  effect.  Without 
once  seeming  to  combat  their  notions,  I  have  endea¬ 
voured  to  bring  before  them  those  truths,  which  they 
could  not  dispute  ;  but  which  were  directly  corrective 
of  any  extravagance,  their  opinions  might  lead  to.  I 
did  not  hesitate  to  allude  to  their  opinions ;  but  it 
was  not  in  way  of  attack,  but  to  show  how  far  they 
would  bear  a  mild  interpretation,  and  might  be  re¬ 
conciled  with  those  I  wished  to  inculcate.  And,  in 
this  way,  I  have  generally  been  able,  as  I  hoped,  to 


142 


talk  usefully,  and  I  am  sure  pleasantly,  with  those  of 
very  different  views  from  my  own. 

Last  night,  for  example,  I  was  talking  to  an  old 
methodist  preacher,  an  acquaintance  of  eight  and 
twenty  years,  who  is  a  steady  maintainer  of  perfec¬ 
tion.  4  Pray,’  said  I,  4  would  you  esteem  him  as 
materially  differing  from  you,  who  would  say,  that, 
though  he  was  not  conscious  of  any  wrong  desires  or 
volitions,  yet  the  tendencies  or  temptations  which 
he  found  in  himself,  though  so  resisted,  as  not  to 
wound  his  conscience,  appeared,  nevertheless,  to  im¬ 
ply  a  remaining  root  of  corruption,  and  of  course  to 
preclude  the  notion  of  entire  deliverance  from  sin  ? 9 
4  I  would  not/  says  he,  4  consider  him  that  spoke  so, 
as  differing  from  me  ;  for  I  believe,  that  we  must 
feel  those  things,  while  in  the  body/  I  felt,  at  once, 
it  was,  between  real  good  people,  a  dispute  of  words. 
The  fact  is,  in  substance,  the  methodists  hold  only 
what  Lucas  contended  for. 

Always,  yours  most  truly, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  19. 


July  19.  1804. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  told  you,  in  a  short  letter  lately,  that  I  was  then 
engaged  in  writing  a  long  one  to  you,  in  which  I 
was  advanced  one  or  two  sheets.  I  then  expected, 
shortly,  to  have  had  it  completed  ;  but  an  attack  of 
the  gouty  kind,  -  about  ten  days  ago,  so  disturbed 


143 


my  whole  frame,  that  this,  I  may  say,  is  the  first  day, 
that  I  feel  myself  disposed  to  take  a  pen  into  my 
hand.  That  letter,  therefore,  being  thus  interrupted, 
and  having  taken  rather  too  voluminous  a  turn,  I 
prefer  leaving  it  as  it  is  ;  and  giving  you  those  parts 
which  I  consider  as  useful,  in  a  more  digested  form. 

The  part  of  your  discourse  which  I  chiefly  object 
to,  is,  where  you  allude  to  the  calvinists,  on  one  hand, 
and  the  wesleians,  on  the  other.  Now,  it  is  my  strong 
conviction,  that  such  allusions  are  more  likely,  by 
far,  to  do  hurt,  than  good.  Let  the  motive  which 
suggests  them  be  ever  so  good  and  honest,  they  are 
far  more  apt  to  excite  wrong  passions,  than  promote 
the  cause  of  right  reason.  If  any  of  those  alluded  to 
hear  what  is  spoken,  it  revolts  them ;  and  increases 
every  kind  of  pernicious  prejudice.  If  they  do  not, 
it  is,  probably,  still  more  hurtfully  reported.  Ill 
informed  persons  apply  it,  as  their  fancies  lead  them  ; 
rumours  are  spread,  that  the  clergyman  preached 
against  the  methodists,  or  evangelics,  or  whomsoever 
else  ;  and,  by  this,  a  wrong  spirit,  unfavourable  to  the 
usefulness  of  the  minister,  perhaps  to  the  church  to 
which  he  belongs,  and  possibly  to  religion  itself j  is 
diffused  through  the  public. 

I  grant,  such  caution  might  be  carried  too  far : 
but,  I  cannot  but  think,  even  this  would  be  erring 
on  the  safe  side.  One,  however,  need  not  err  on 
any  side.  Let  truth,-  as  opposite  to  existing  wrong 
doctrine,  be  clearly,  and  scripturally,  exhibited  and 
elucidated ;  and,  if  good  is  to  be  done  at  all,  it  will, 
I  think,  in  that  way.  Nay,  even  those  who  are  most 
tenacious  of  the  erroneous  view,  may  be  led,  in  that 
way,  so  to  take  in  the  right  view  along  with  it,  that, 
without  any  professed,  or  even  conscious  renunciation 
of  their  opinions,  such  a  modification  of  them  may, 


144 


imperceptibly,  take  place,  as  to  do  away  all  their 
danger. 

I  conceive  (allowing  for  exempt  cases)  this  may 
hold  good  at  all  times  ;  but  I  own,  to  me  it  appears, 
that,  at  this  time,  such  caution,  towards  the  two 
parties  in  view,  is  peculiarly  expedient ;  inasmuch  as 
they,  so  very  strikingly,  divide  between  them,  a  large 
share  of  the  operative  religion  of  the  present  day.  I 
would  ask  any  person  of  seriousness  and  candour, 
who  knows  well  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  Britain, 
during  the  by-past  century,  where  would,  or  what 
would,  our  religion,  at  this  day,  be,  if  the  methodists 
had  not  made  their  appearance  ?  With  all  their 
foibles,  I  own  I  think  they  have  been  grand  instru¬ 
ments  of  good,  far  beyond  the  limits  of  their  own  so¬ 
cieties.  I  feel  this,  I  hope,  not  without  gratitude  to 
the  Author  and  Giver  of  all  good  things  ;  and,  there¬ 
fore,  am  most  cordially  disposed  myselij  and  cannot 
avoid  persuading  others,  to  deal  gently  and  indul¬ 
gently  with  them.  Not,  surely,  to  overlook  their 
errors  ;  but  to  touch  them  with  all  possible  mildness, 
so  as  to  compel,  both  themselves,  and  all  others,  to 
feel,  that  it  was  love  of  truth,  alone,  and  not  any  un¬ 
kind  temper,  which  dictated  the  censure. 

But  I  have  another  motive  for  such  caution,  re¬ 
specting  the  wesleian  methodists ;  and  that  is,  that  I 
really  do  think  them  so  wonderfully  right,  in  most 
of  their  views,  as  to  render  them,  on  the  whole, 
much  more  the  object  of  my  estimation,  than  my 
blame.  .  Nay,  the  very  point  you  look  at  in  them,  I 
mean,  their  view  of  Christian  perfection,  is,  in  my 
mind,  so  essentially  right  and  important,  that  it  is  on 
this  account,  particularly,  I  value  them,  above  other 
denominations  of  that  sort.  I  am  aware  that  ignorant 
and  rash  individuals  expose  what  is  in  itself  true,  by 


14.5 


their  unfounded  pretensions,  and  irrational  descrip¬ 
tions;  but,  with  the  sincerest  disapproval  of  every 
such  excess,  I  do  esteem  John  Wesley’s  stand  for 
holiness,  to  be  that  which  does  immortal  honour  to 
his  name.  And  I  am  assured,  too,  that,  while  num¬ 
bers,  in  the  methodist  society,  abuse  his  doctrine  (to 
which  his  stress  on  sudden  revolutions  in  the  mind 
has,  I  think,  contributed),  perhaps  a  still  greater 
number  (but  a  great  number  I  am  sure)  are  excited, 
by  what  he  has  taught,  to  such  inward  and  outward 
strictness,  such  deep  self-denial,  and  such  substantial 
piety  and  spirituality,  as  are  scarcely  to  be  found 
in  any  other  society.  In  John  Wesley’s  views  of 
Christian  perfection,  are  combined,  in  substance,  all 
the  sublime  morality  of  the  greek  fathers,  the  spi¬ 
rituality  of  the  mystics,  and  the  divine  philosophy  of 
our  favourite  platonists.  Macarius,  Fenelon,  Lucas, 
and  all  of  their  respective  classes,  have  been  consulted 
and  digested  by  him  ;  and  his  ideas  are,  essentially, 
theirs.  But  his  merit  is  (after  all  just  allowances  for 
mixtures  of  the  fanatical  kind),  that  he  has  popular¬ 
ized  these  sublime  lessons,  in  such  a  manner,  in  his 
and  his  brother’s  hymns,  that  he 

(  Unfinished .) 


LETTER  20. 


Barleywood,  Bristol,  Oct.  23.  1804. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

How  strangely  negligent  must  I  appear  to  you  : 
and  yet,  were  you  near  me,  I  could  show  you  several 
sheets,  written  with  a  view  to  sending  them  to  you. 

VOL.  I.  L 


146 


One  letter,  I  had  actually  completed ;  but  became 
puzzled,  afterward,  about  the  subject  chiefly  alluded 
to  ;  and,  therefore,  deferred  sending  it,  till  I  should 

talk  to - ;  and  then  found,  it  would  not  suit  the 

case.  In  truth,  there  are  few  whom  I  could  be  less 
disposed  to  neglect  than  you.  I  think  of  you  with 
sincere  interest ;  and  thought  of  you  with  more  feel¬ 
ing  than  usual,  on  account  of  the  sudden  death  of 
your  friend.  Poor  fellow,  perhaps,  like  the  son  of 
Jeroboam,  good  was  seen  in  him,  which  the  wretched 
plan  of  preferment-hunting,  to  which  his  family  would 
have  impelled  him,  might  have  soon  blighted ;  and 
therefore,  while  a  capacity  for  future  happiness  re¬ 
mained,  he  was  graciously  carried  beyond  danger. 
This  thought  has  occurred  to  me,  from  the  manner 
in  which  he  came  up  to  me,  in  the  Castle,  a  tew  days 
before  I  left  Dublin.  He  had  no  motive  for  speak¬ 
ing  to  me,  with  whom  he  had  no  personal  acquaint¬ 
ance,  but  his  love  of  goodness  (which  he  had  heard 
ascribed  to  me),  and  his  love  of  you  (from  whom 
he  had  heard  of  me)  :  yet  was  there  something  so 
kind,  and  so  genuine,  in  his  address,  that  my  heart 
cleaved  to  him  ;  and  of  course,  when  I  heard  of  his 
sudden  death,  the  view  I  have  mentioned  arose  in 
my  mind. 

I  have  got  for  you  Gillies’  Collections.  Vallance, 
from  having  taken  up  the  idea  of  an  auction,  being 
not  to  be  dealt  with  for  single  books,  I  got  it  at  Bath, 
where  I  have  left  it  with  the  archbishop  ;  both  that 
he  may  look  at  it,  and  because  it  is  as  ready  a  con¬ 
veyance  to  you,  as  I  could  just  now  command.  I 
wished,  also,  to  get  for  you,  Jones  on  the  Canon  of 
the  New  Testament ;  but  it  had  been  sold. 

I  left  Dublin  about  the  15th  of  August ;  staid 
some  days  at  B - ;  then,  proceeded  southward,  and 


147 


spent  two  days  with  - — ,  the  curate  of  New 

Ross ;  in  whom  I  found  much  to  be  esteemed  and 
loved,  and  some  things  which  one  might  wish  other- 
ways  regulated.  He  is,  however,  a  most  sincere 
Christian.  He  accompanied  me  down  the  river  in  a 
boat,  to  the  place  of  embarkation  for  Milford  ;  where 
I  arrived  on  a  Saturday,  after  a  voyage  of  sixteen 
hours.  I  spent  my  Sunday  at  Haverford-west ;  and 
employed  the  ensuing  week,  in  slowly  moving  through 
South  Wales,  much,  indeed,  to  my  gratification.  I 
visited  Grongar  Hill,  and  the  old  castle  described  in 
the  poem  ;  and  also  walked  through  the  grounds  of 
that  seat,  where  Jeremy  Taylor  lived,  and  preached, 
during  the  usurpation  (Golden  Grove).  On  Satur¬ 
day,  I  reached  Bristol :  on  Monday,  came  hither : 
spent  three  weeks  :  then,  paid  another  pleasant  visit, 
to  a  lately  formed  acquaintance  in  Bristol,  where  my 
friend  Butterworth  met  me,  from  London  ;  and,  with 
both,  my  stay  of  a  fortnight  was  very  pleasant,  and,  I 
hope,  not  useless.  Then,  I  spent  ten  days  at  Bath  : 
and  now,  I  am  concluding  my  plan,  with  a  second 
visit  here.  I  brought  your  sermon  from  Bath  ;  and 
I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you  how  it  impresses.  I  know 
it  will  not  be  to  your  disadvantage. 

My  good  friend,  how  I  have  blamed  myself  for  not 
writing  to  you  !  And  yet,  when  I  take  a  fit  of  not 
writing  to  a  person,  be  that  person  ever  so  dear  to 
me,  I  find  breaking  through  it,  something  like  resist¬ 
ing  the  nightmare.  I  may  truly  say,  I  think  of  you, 
perhaps  daily  ;  and  I  might  add,  think  of  you  in  the 
way  you  would  wish  me  to  think  of  you  :  yet  I  have 
not  had  resolution  to  write.  Indeed,  I  must  say  for 
myselfj  that  I  have  been  unusually  occupied. 

Write  to  me :  no  one,  perhaps  in  the  world,  likes 
better  to  hear  from  you.  These  are  not  words  of 

l  2 


148 


flattery :  I  flatter  no  one.  I  value,  where  I  see 
worth  :  but  it  is  my  wish  to  judge  strictly  ;  and  my 
resolution  to  express  but  what  I  feel. 

The  Abp.  thinks  he  gets  advantage  from  the 
water.  I  hope  he  and  Dr.  Woodward,  will  come 
here  to  breakfast  on  Saturday  morning.  It  is  worth 
their  while ;  for  the  place  is  interesting,  but  the  mis¬ 
tress  of  it  matchless.  To  be  sure,  it  is  a  great  indul¬ 
gence  of  Providence  to  poor  me,  to  be  thus  received 
and  cultivated,  in  a  place  above  all  others  to  my  wish. 
I  wonder  at  it :  for  I  sought  it  not. 

Believe  me  always,  your  faithful 

and  affectionate  friend, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  XXL 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq.~ 

Cashel,  Oct.  31.  1804. 

My  dear  Sir, 

.Even  if  I  could  have  brought  myself  to  suspect  you 
of  unkind  negligence  (which  is  impossible),  your 
most  acceptable  letter  would  have  fully  obliterated 
every  uneasy  feeling  of  that  nature.  I  often  and 
often  thought  of  you,  indeed  ;  and  longed  to  learn 
how,  and  wnere,  you  were ;  how  occupied,  and  how 
amused  ;  and,  frequently,  feelings  would  arise,  I  hope 
not  selfish,  though  connected  with  self,  of  the  serious 
benefit  I  was  losing,  by  the  discontinuance  of  your 
correspondence.  I  will  not  say  how  highly  I  value 
your  letters  \  nor  can  I  express  how  gratified  I  am, 


149 


by  the  affectionate  warmth  of  your  last.  Indeed,  my 
dear  sir,  you  may  most  essentially  serve  me,  by  writing 
more  frequently ;  by  advising  me,  both  as  to  my 
studies,  and  my  feelings ;  and  by  candidly  pointing 
out  every  particular,  that  appears  amiss  to  you  in 
either. 

I  am  now,  perhaps,  going  to  put  your  good  nature 
to  the  test ;  and,  perhaps,  to  occasion  you  some  little 
uneasiness,  which,  unnecessarily  or  without  mature 
deliberation,  I  would  not  do.  Certain  thoughts  have, 
for  some  time  past,  repeatedly  occurred  to  my  mind  ; 
which,  in  spite  of  all  my  exertions  to  suppress  them, 
again  and  again  return.  They  are  of  the  nature  of 
doubts,  whether  I  am  fit  for  a  country  clergyman,  or 
whether  the  situation  is  fit  for  me.  I  have  ever  found 
a  great  awkwardness,  and  want  of  facility,  in  address¬ 
ing  myself  to  people  of  the  lower  classes  :  in  my  in¬ 
tercourse  with  such,  I  myself  seldom  feel  at  ease,  and 
fear  they  are  not  at  ease  with  me.  I  cannot  hit  on 
topics,  suited  to  their  capacities,  or  situation ;  in  a 
word,  I  want  the  talent  of  bringing  things  home  to 
their  apprehensions.  Again,  I  find  society  necessary, 
by  way  of  relaxation.  But  the  society  generally  to 
be  met  with  in  the  country,  is  not  to  my  taste.  It  is 
too  much  the  society  of  the  world.  We  have  not 
views,  nor  feelings,  nor  pursuits  in  common.  At  the 
time  that  I  possibly  most  need  to  be  confirmed  in 
attachment  to  seriousness,  I  hear  seriousness  depre¬ 
ciated,  and  identified  with  enthusiasm.  And,  in  an 
hour  of  depression,  I  am,  too  often,  more  depressed, 
by  witnessing  frivolity  around  me,  unrelieved  by  a 
single  topic,  worthy  of  an  educated  and  thinking  be¬ 
ing.  I  know  it  is  my  duty  to  be  content  and  happy, 
in  that  situation  which  God  has  been  pleased  to  allot 
me;  yet,  sometimes,  I  have  been  almost  inclined  to 

l  3 


150 


a  voluntary  relinquishment,  of  my  prospects  in  this 
diocese.  My  present  narrow  sphere  of  duty,  affords 
very  little  active  occupation  ;  and  I  find  myself  nearly 
incapable  of  composing  discourses,  fit  to  be  read  in  a 
little  room,  to  a  rustic  audience,  frequently  short 
of  two  dozen  people.  I  endeavour  to  pursue  my 
studies  ;  I  trust  with  some  effect,  so  far  as  respects 
myself,  but  with  none,  as  to  present  professional  use¬ 
fulness  ;  and,  indeed,  with  little  prospect  of  extend¬ 
ing  my  stock  in  future.  Thus  situated,  something 
often  tells  me,  that,  if  I  could  be  placed  within  the 
reach  of  some  serious  and  literary  society,  and  had 
a  congregation  to  address,  I  could  be  happier  than  I 
am.  I  hope  and  trust,  that  this  is  not  ambition  in 
disguise.  If  I  rightly  know  myself,  I  have  a  deep 
sense  of  my  deficiency  in  sound  information  ;  and  a 
full  conviction,  that  the  place  I  now  fill,  is  highly 
creditable  in  itself  and  opens  a  prospect  of  advance¬ 
ment,  far  beyond  my  merits.  I  think  I  am  not  eager 
to  display  myself ;  and,  if  I  were,  the  display  would 
be  very  middling  :  but  I  feel,  that  a  moderate  esta¬ 
blishment  for  life,  with  such  advantages  as  I  have 
above  alluded  to,  would  conduce  more  to  my  com¬ 
fort,  than  even  a  large  preferment  in  the  country. 
And  this  feeling  is  increased  by  the  conviction,  that, 
if  I  have  any  powers  of  usefulness,  they  are  in  the 
way  of  addressing  people,  whose  minds  are  somewhat 
cultivated  ;  and,  that,  possibly,  at  some  future  day, 
when  matured  by  reading  and  experience,  I  might  be 
of  a  little  service,  in  the  way  of  publication. 

Now,  my  dear  sir,  I  lay  these  thoughts  freely 
before  you,  in  the  hope  that  you  will  as  freely  exa¬ 
mine,  and,  if  necessary,  reprove  them.  If  they  are 
reprehensible,  I  sincerely  wish  for  a  supply  of  argu¬ 
ments  to  dissipate  them.  If  they  are  allowable,  it 


151 


may  be  asked,  how  are  they  to  be  acted  upon  ?  My 
present  impression  is,  that  it  would,  just  now,  be 
highly  impolitic,  and  indeed  blameable,  to  withdraw 
from  the  protection  of  our  excellent  friend  the  Arch¬ 
bishop  ;  but  that  possibly,  in  the  course  of  a  little 
time,  some  situation  might  be  procured,  affording 
a  moderate,  though  creditable  maintenance,  under 
more  eligible  circumstances.  Nothing  can  possibly  be 
kinder  than  the  Archbishop’s  conduct  towards  me  ; 
and  I  believe,  without  being  sanguine,  I  may  say 
to  you,  that  I  imagine  his  views  for  me,  are  by  no 
means  unfavourable :  but  I  much  doubt,  whether 
there  is  a  single  benefice  in  this  diocese,  that  would 
afford  me  a  sphere  of  duty,  in  which  I  could  feel 
comfortable,  and,  to  any  extent,  useful ;  though  con¬ 
scious,  that  talents  very  superior  to  mine  might  be 
fully  and  adequately  occupied,  in  many  parishes  of 
Cashel.  On  this  troublesome  and  tedious  topic,  I 
will  only  add,  that  I  am  far  more  anxious  to  have 
my  views  altered,  than  confirmed ;  especially  as  I 
know  that  your  opinion,  will  be  the  result  of  genuine 
affection,  and  conscientious  judgment,  and  not  of 
mere  worldly  prudence. 

(Nov.  1.)  On  looking  over  what  I  wrote  yester¬ 
day,  I  felt  a  doubt  whether  I  should  send  it.  My 
impressions  on  the  subject  are  now  somewhat  weaker. 
However,  as  I  repeatedly  and  involuntarily  feel  the 
whole  of  what  is  above  stated,  I  think  it  best  to  send 
it  on  ;  expecting  to  derive  real  advantage,  from  your 
opinion  and  advice. 

I  was  delighted  at  your  succinct,  but  very  plea¬ 
sant  account  of  your  tour.  Such  scenery,  and  such 
society,  as  you  have  been  enjoying,  must,  altogether, 
produce  a  degree  of  gratification,  superior  to  any 
thing  else,  merely  of  this  world.  I  take  it  for 

l  4 


152 


granted,  that  Barleywood,  from  whence  you  write, 
is  the  residence  of  Mrs.  H.  More.  If  her  conversa¬ 
tion  is  equal  to  her  writings,  and  I  imagine  it  is  fully 
so,  it  must  be  superlative  indeed.  There  is  no  mo¬ 
dern  author,  whom  I  hold  in  such  estimation,  .  .  in¬ 
deed,  veneration,  is  a  word,  which  would  much  more 
adequately  express  my  feeling.  Her  writings  are 
calculated  to  do  most  extended  good ;  and,  of  all 
her  talents,  I  know  none  rarer,  and  more  estimable, 
than  that  happy  facility,  with  which  she  adapts  her¬ 
self  to  the  capacities  of  all  ranks  ;  of  the  peasant,  no 
less  than  of  the  philosopher.  Your  letter  brought 
back  poor  C —  to  my  mind’s  eye,  in  a  very  striking 
and  affecting  point  of  view.  He  had,  in  truth,  a  soul 
of  courtesy  and  kindness,  that  continually  beamed 
forth  in  his  countenance.  He  was  made  for  much 
better  things,  than  the  turmoil  of  preferment-hunting  5 
and  I  trust  is  now  enjoying  an  unalloyed  happiness, 
which  the  things  of  this  world  never  can  confer.  It 
gives  me  a  melancholy  pleasure  to  reflect,  that  he 
thought  of  me  with  complacency ;  and  I  am  glad 
you  knew  him,  even  for  a  few  moments. 

I  got,  a  few  days  since,  the  abridgment  of  Bax¬ 
ter’s  Christian  Directory :  with  which  I  am  highly 
pleased.  I  am  truly  thankful  for  your  recollection 
of  me  in  Gillies’  Hist.  Coll.  As  to  Jones  on  the 
Canon,  it  is  lately  republished ;  and,  I  can  get  it,  I 
dare  say,  through  Cooke,  whom  Dr.  Hales  writes  me 
word,  he  finds  more  punctual,  than  any  bookseller 
he  ever  met  with.  I  was  reading,  very  lately,  some 
extracts  from  Hayley’s  third  volume  of  Cowper.  They 
pleased  me  even  more,  than  any  letters,  in  the  two 
former  volumes.  I  wish  the  work  may  be  published 
in  octavo ;  for,  then,  it  would  be  reduced  to  the  level 
of  my  pocket.  If  you  see  the  Archbishop,  I  would 


153 


thank  yon  to  inform  his  Grace,  that  I  received  his 
letter,  though  not  so  soon  as  I  should,  for  it  was  mis- 
sent  to  Caine.  I  delay  answering  it,  only  till  Mr. 
Jacob  ascertains  some  things,  necessary  to  be  stated 
in  reply. 

I  send  this  by  Waterford,  in  preference  to  enclosing 
it  to  Mr.  Taylor,  that  it  may  reach  you  the  sooner. 
I  hope,  in  your  reply,  to  know  when  you  return 
to  Ireland.  Please  God,  if  you  are  in  Dublin  this 
winter  or  spring,  we  shall  meet  then. 

Believe  me  ever,  your  most  obliged  and 
affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  XXII. 
To  A .  Knooc ,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Nov.  26.  1804. 

My  dear  Sir, 

The  principal  motive  that  I  have  for  writing  to  you, 
just  at  present,  is  to  state  my  apprehension,  that  I 
may  have  lost  your  answer  to  my  last  letter,  by  a  late 
robbery  of  the  post,  between  Clonmel  and  this  place. 
Do  not,  however,  imagine,  that  I  have  the  slightest 
intention  of  reproaching  you,  should  no  letter  have 
been  hitherto  dispatched ;  for,  however  anxious  to 
hear  from  you,  I  am  too  well  acquainted  with  the 
cacoethes  postponendi,  not  to  have  a  fellow-feeling  for 
those  who  suffer  under  it. 

I  thoroughly  recollect,  that,  when  last  I  wrote,  my 
spirits  were  more  than  usually  depressed.  Yet,  on  a 
sober  review  of  the  sentiments  contained  in  that  letter, 


154 


I  cannot  now  greatly  dissent  from  them.  I  do  not 
feel  myself  calculated  for  the  station  of  a  country 
clergyman  ;  and,  least  of  all,  for  a  country  clergyman 
in  the  south  of  Ireland.  Not  that  I  quarrel  with  my 
present  situation ;  because,  on  the  whole,  it  is  per¬ 
haps,  well,  that  a  few  years  should  be  spent  in  retire¬ 
ment,  and  with  little  parochial  duty.  But  I  speak 
with  respect  to  my  ultimate  destination  in  the  church. 
A  parish  minister  should  possess  an  active,  bustling 
disposition,  with  some  turn  for  agricultural  pursuits, 
and  much  fondness  for  introducing  habits  of  sobriety, 
industry,  cleanliness,  and  comfort,  among  the  lower 
orders.  Now,  in  all  these  particulars,  I  am  miserably 
deficient;  either  from  total  ignorance,  or  from  an 
utter  incapacity  for  entering  into  their  detail.  Dif¬ 
ferent  spheres,  require  different  talents.  Mine,  such 
as  they  are,  seem  best  suited  to  a  sphere,  where 
things  are  somewhat  prepared  ;  where  civilized  habits 
have  made  some  advance ;  where  information  has 
been  a  little  diffused ;  and  where  the  interiora  of  re¬ 
ligion,  might  be  inculcated,  with  a  good  prospect  of 
being  understood  and  relished.  This  I  fear,  however, 
is  very  little  the  case,  in  any  part  of  the  county  of 
Tipperary.  The  preparative  stages  have  not  been 
yet  surmounted ;  the  foundations  are  not  laid  ;  nay, 
the  very  stones  and  rubbish  have  not  been  cleared 
away.  And,  I  verily  believe,  that,  to  do  any  extended 
good  in  tins  district,  but,  certainly,  to  feel  pleasure  in 
the  progress,  a  clergyman  should  have  talents,  and 
disposition,  much  akin  to  those  of  the  Czar  Peter. 
Now,  to  such  talents  and  dispositions,  I  feel  that  I 
have  no  claim. 

It  has  been  much  rumoured,  both  here  and  in 
Dublin,  that  whenever  a  vacancy  occurs  at  York,  the 
Archbishop  of  Cashel  is  to  be  translated  to  Armagh. 


155 


Should  it  please  God  to  throw  me  into  that  country, 
I  feel  that  I  might  be  settled  there  more  to  my  mind. 
And,  I  will  now  tell  you  an  ultimatum,  which  I  would 
far  prefer,  to  any  church  living  in  his  Grace  of 
Cashel’s  gift :  the  librarianship  of  Armagh,  and 
preacher’s  place  in  the  cathedral.  This  I  say,  with¬ 
out  having  any  notion  of  the  pecuniary  income  ;  but 
merely,  because,  in  that  situation,  I  should,  at  once, 
have  peculiar  advantages  in  study ;  some  prospect  of 
professional  usefulness,  without  cure  of  souls  ;  and  the 
pleasure  of  residing  near  my  sister  and  brother-in-law. 
This,  however,  is  castle-building.  We  are  not  to 
chuse  our  own  situations ;  and  I  am  well  convinced, 
that  Providence  will  order  those  things  for  the  best. 
At  the  same  time,  that,  if  the  Archbishop  were  to 
remain  for  life  at  Cashel,  I  could  wish  for  your  sen¬ 
timents,  as  to  the  feasibility,  and  propriety  of  looking 
hereafter,  for  a  settlement  in  some  more  eligible 
district. 

I  am  pleased  with  Baxter’s  Christian  Directory : 
though  I  think  the  abridgment  might  have  been 
more  judiciously  formed.  Mr.  A.  Clark  has  abridged, 
rather  by  omission,  than  by  condensation  ;  and  some 
of  Baxter’s  careless  phraseology  is  retained,  to  the 
detriment  of  the  work.  I  compared  about  150  pages, 
with  the  original  folio  5  and  generally  found  it  faith¬ 
ful  ;  though  sometimes  passages  were  omitted,  that  I 
could  have  wished  retained,  and  vice  versa.  At 
page  139.  vol.  i.,  I  met  a  little  interpolation,  (at  least 
it  does  not  occur  in  the  fol.  edit,  of  1673,)  which,  I 
think  you  will  agree  with  me,  is  not  in  the  style  of 
Richard  Baxter ;  and  which,  without  being  properly 
explained,  seems  calculated  to  favour  an  enthusiastic 
peculiarity  of  methodism ;  for  which  purpose,  it  was 
possibly  introduced.  The  passage  is,  ‘  and  rest  not 


156 


without  a  clear  sense  of  the  love  of  God,  shed  abroad 
in  your  heart  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  It  is  the  privilege 
of  every  genuine  Christian,  to  know  his  sins  forgiven, 
that  he  may  rejoice  in  Christ  Jesus,  having  no  con¬ 
fidence  in  the  flesh.  He  that  hath  the  witness  in  his 
own  soul,  that  he  is  born  of  God,  cannot  but  be 
happy.’  This  language  is  undoubtedly  scriptural ; 
but  the  expressions  thus  thrown  together,  unguarded 
and  unqualified,  appear  suited  to  raise,  in  untutored 
minds,  an  expectation  of  some  sensible  impression. 

I  have  lately  engaged  in  a  careful  perusal,  of  the 
controversy  on  Rom.  vii.  14.  °25. ;  and  purpose,  with 
God’s  help,  to  go  through  with  it.  My  chief  motive 
is,  that  this  passage  is,  unquestionably,  the  sheet 
anchor  of  those,  who  would  lower  the  standard  of 
Christianity;  and  that,  independently  of  its  own  great 
importance,  it  involves  the  deep  moral  meaning  of  a 
great  part  of  the  New  Testament.  I  have  got  near 
me,  the  long  and  elaborate  dissertations  on  the  sub¬ 
ject,  of  Bishop  Bull,  Arminius,  and  Faustus  Socinus. 
You  need  not  fear  that  the  last-mentioned  writer,  will 
affect  the  orthodoxy  of  my  creed.  He  is  a  candid 
and  judicious  advocate,  for  the  doctrine  of  Christian 
perfection  ;  very  much  in  the  same  sense  with  Lucas  ; 
and  it  will  perhaps  surprize  you,  that  he  maintains, 
not  only  the  possibility,  but  the  certainty,  of  instant¬ 
aneous  conversions,  at  least  of  sudden  ones,  in  the 
following  strong  terms.  ‘  Respondeo,  nihil  impedire, 
quominus  Deus  nonnunquam,  levi  admodum  ante- 
cedente  pugna,  cuipiam,  utcarni  sum  plane  dominetur, 
concedat.  Quinetiam,  et  sacra  historia,  et  perpetuo 
usu,  teste,  affirmare  non  dubito,  smpius  fieri  in  Chris¬ 
tiana  religione,  ut  quis,  brevissimo  tempore,  et  quasi 
horse  momento,  ex  malo  bonus  fiat,  eoque  perveniat, 
quo,  in  moralis  discipline  via  annorutn  multorum 


157 

spatio  pervenire  potest.’* — ApudBibl.  Frat.  Pol.  Op. 
tom.  i.  p.  99. 

One  result  of  my  late  studies,  is  a  very  strong 
disposition  to  believe,  that  1  John  i.  8.  refers,  not  to 
present,  but  to  past  sins.  On  these  grounds.  That 
a^oL^lioLv  does  not  signify  peccare,  but  peccati 

reum  esse :  that  this  verse  is  to  be  explained  by 
v.  10.  oh  8x  ri[xocfJr)}coi[xsv,  in  the  past  tense  ;  and  that 
this  mode  of  interpretation,  harmonizes  with  the  re¬ 
markable  expressions  of  the  3d  chapter,  as  well  as 
with  many  passages  of  Saint  Paul’s  writings. 

It  appears  to  me,  that  your  explanation  of 
Pom.  vii.,  with  a  reference  to  and 

G-axp%ovi(r{jLO£,  is  a  more  satisfactory  one,  than  I  have 
yet  met  with.  There  are  two  extremes,  among 
the  controversionalists :  some,  applying  the  passage 
to  persons  altogether  sensual ;  others,  to  persons  en¬ 
tirely  regenerate.  Arminius,  and  Socinus,  steer  a 
middle  course.  On  the  whole,  though  much  vague 
and  extraneous  matter  is  to  be  waded  through,  and 
many  logical  subtleties  are  to  be  untwisted,  I  find 
satisfaction  in  the  pursuit.  I  trust,  through  God’s 
help,  it  will  tend,  both  to  enlarge  my  mind,  and  to 
increase  my  knowledge  of  the  sense  of  scripture.  I 
have  it  in  contemplation,  merely  for  my  own  satisfac¬ 
tion,  and  future  reference,  to  draw  up  a  treatise  on 
the  subject ;  which,  should  we  meet  this  winter,  I 
hope  to  show  you. 

Lest  you  should  think  I  am  quite  forgetful  of  pa- 

*  I  reply,  that  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  God  from  granting  any  man,  after  a 
slight  previous  conflict,  complete  dominion  over  his  animal  nature.  Nay  more, 
upon  the  joint  authority  of  sacred  history,  and  of  immemorial  experience,  I  do 
not  hesitate  to  affirm,  as  matter  of  common  occurrence  under  the  Gospel  dispens¬ 
ation,  that  a  bad  man  shall  become  suddenly,  almost  instantaneously,  good  ;  and 
shall  reach  such  heights,  as,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  moral  training,  it  would 
require  many  years  to  attain. 


158 


roehial  matters,  I  must  tell  you,  that  I  yesterday 
preached  to  my  little  flock,  which  is  improving,  the 
first  of  four  sermons  on  the  Lord’s  prayer.  I  found 
so  much  matter  in  Leighton,  Hale,  and  Henry,  that 
selection  became  necessary  ;  and  I  endeavoured  to 
be  as  popular  and  personal  as  possible. 

I  send  this  to  Miss  Ferguson,  that  it  may  be  for¬ 
warded  to  you  :  as  I  know  not  where  you  are.  Fare¬ 
well,  my  dear  Sir,  and  believe  me  ever, 

Yours  most  affectionately, 

John  Jebb. 

P.S.  I  hope  you  may  find  it  convenient  to  write  soon. 


LETTER  21. 

Dublin,  Dec.  6.  1804. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

Finding  your  letter,  of  the  26th ,  on  my  arrival  here, 
I  hasten  to  say,  that  I  most  deeply  enter  into  all 
your  feelings  ;  no  one,  perhaps,  being  more  constitu¬ 
tionally  competent  to  feel  along  with  you.  But  I  do 
believe  you  need  not  take  thought  for  to-morrow. 
Your  destiny  is  in  the  best  hands  ;  ‘  Seek  ye  first  the 
kingdom  of  God,  and  his  righteousness  (as  I  do 
trust  you  are  doing),  and  all  these  things  shall  be 
added  unto  you/  Sure  I  am,  we  may  trust  Provi¬ 
dence  with  any  thing,  but  to-day ;  we  doing  our 
rational  duty.  And  in  fact,  my  persuasion  is,  that, 
in  some  way  or  other,  you  will  be  brought,  at  length, 
into  a  situation  suited  to  your  taste  and  temper. 

The  latter  part  of  your  last,  I  read  with  great 
interest ;  and  I  think  it  not  wrong,  to  see  what  all 


159 


have  said.  Probably,  Faustus  Socinus  never  would 
have  gone  the  lengths  he  did,  if  he  had  not  been 
shocked,  and  driven  into  an  extreme,  by  the  incon¬ 
gruities  of  Calvinism.  Yet,  Calvinism  has  had,  in 
my  mind,  a  providential  function  to  discharge ;  and 
so,  I  think,  had  the  popish  ceremonies.  Still,  however, 
if  these  swaddling  bands  of  infant  times,  are  still 
pertinaciously  kept  on,  growth  must  be  checked,  and 
advancement  to  maturity  postponed,  if  not  prevented. 
The  grand  error  of  Calvinism  is,  the  disjoining  of 
God’s  favour  and  preference,  from  moral  qualifica¬ 
tions  ;  and  thus  distorting  the  whole  beauty  and  gran¬ 
deur  of  the  scripture.  This  error,  therefore,  must 
be  confuted,  before  Christianity  can  be  purely  appre¬ 
ciated,  by  either  deep,  or  half-thinkers.  I  trust  your 
endeavours,  in  this  worthy  cause,  will  be  aided  by 
the  best  of  all  influences. 

I  like  what  you  say  of  1  John  i.  8.  ;  and  I  dare  say 
the  criticism  is  just.  As  I  have  not  the  abridgment 
of  Baxter,  and  my  original,  I  think,  must  be  paged 
differently  from  your’s,  I  wish  to  have  from  you  the 
book,  section,  &c.;  as  I  certainly  have  the  latest 
edition  of  the  Directorv,  which  makes  one  of  the 
four  volumes  of  his  works. 

I  will  not  now  pretend  to  enlarge,  as  I  expect 
Dr.  Black,  who  staid  in  town  to  see  me,  to  come  in 
every  minute ;  but  I  trust  to  make  up  for  my  present 
brevity,  on  another  early  occasion,  being,  my  good 
friend,  with  real  cordiality, 

Your  faithful  and  affectionate  friend, 

Alex.  Knox. 


160 


LETTER  XXIII. 
To  A.  Knox ,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Dec.  24.  1804. 

My  dear  Sir, 

It  was  said  of  John  Hales,  as  doubtless  you  well 
know,  that  ‘  his  chamber  was  a  church,  and  his  chair 
a  pulpit/  But  it  was,  also,  his  recorded  foible,  ‘  not 
to  pen  any  thing,  till  he  needs  must/  The  former  of 
these  little  sentences,  I  should  be  at  no  loss  to  apply, 
if  it  were  delicate  to  do  so.  The  latter,  is  by  no 
means  equally  applicable  ;  at  least,  not  from  me, 
who  have  so  often  profited,  by  the  ready  assistance  of 
your  pen  :  still,  however,  I  cannot  help  recalling  it  to 
your  memory.  The  truth  is,  in  this  particular,  I  am 
too  much  interested,  not  to  feel  warmly.  I  could 
now  show  you  a  little  MS.  volume,  filled  with  extracts 
from,  or  copies  of,  your  communications.  And  the 
real  advantage  I  derive  from  this  volume,  makes  me 
anxious  for  another  and  another :  the  more  so,  as  I 
find  your  sentiments,  prudently,  and  in  proper  season, 
dealt  out,  among  some  of  my  clerical  brethren  here, 
productive  of  the  happiest  effects.  Yet,  I  hope  the 
feeling  is  not  improperly  selfish,  which  leads  me  to 
dwell  most,  on  the  advantages  I  most  unequivocally 
feel,  the  improvement  of  my  own  mind,  the  enlarge¬ 
ment  of  my  views,  and  the  excitement  of  my  affec¬ 
tions.  And  feeling  thus,  I  cannot  but  be  sincerely 
desirous,  that  your  avocations  may  permit  you  to 
write  more  frequently  and  fully.  I  have  embarked 
in  theology,  chiefly  as  your  pupil ;  and  I  truly  wish 


161 


to  be  your  pupil,  also,  in  self-government,  and  self- 
direction.  The  hints  of  the  latter  kind,  in  refer¬ 
ence  to  my  last  two  letters,  have  been  received,  I 
trust,  with  a  due  sense  of  their  unquestionable  jus¬ 
tice  ;  and  not  without  a  consequent  tendency,  to 
correct  and  calm  my  feelings.  Thank  God,  I  have, 
of  late,  felt  myself  enabled,  with  composure  and 
thankfulness,  to  await  the  appointments  of  the  great 
and  wise  Disposer.  This  calm,  it  is  my  wish  and 
prayer,  that  the  Almighty  may  graciously  continue. 
Lest,  however,  he  should  see  fit  to  try  me,  by  any 
temporary  recurrence  of  low  spirits  and  dejection, 
I  could  wish  to  have  by  me  some  further  thoughts 
of  yours,  on  the  topics  of  uneasiness  stated  in  my 
two  letters. 

I  trust  the  unpleasant  effects  of  your  sea-sickness, 
are  now  altogether  removed ;  and,  on  this  suppos¬ 
ition,  am  gratified  that  it  occurred,  as  being  highly 
serviceable  to  persons  of  your  bilious  habit.  By  the 
way,  I  am  sorry  to  find  the  good  Archbishop  is  de¬ 
tained,  by  the  illness  of  part  of  his  family.  I  hope 
it  may  please  God,  soon  to  remove  this  cause  of 
anxiety ;  which  must  press  with  particular  severity, 
on  so  tender  a  parent. 

The  passage  in  Clarke’s  Baxter,  which  I  suspect 
to  be  an  interpolation,  follows  in  immediate  connec¬ 
tion  with  this  sentence,  which  closes  a  section  of  my 
copy  of  the  original.  ‘  Know,  and  use,  religion  as  it 
is,  without  mistaking  or  corrupting  it,  and  it  will  not 
appear  to  you  as  a  grievous,  tedious,  or  confounding 
thing.’  Book  i.  chap.  ii.  direct.  13.  ap.  fin.  p.  7<5.  of 
the  edition  I  use.  This  is  immediately  succeeded, 
in  the  abridgment,  by  the  words,  4  And  rest  not 
without  a  clear  sense,’  &c.  &c.  as  in  my  last  letter. 

I  believe  you  will  coincide  with  me,  that  Mr.  Clarke 

-  VOL.  I.  M 


162 


is  not  altogether  judicious,  in  the  total  omission  of 
the  5th  of  Baxter’s  20  directions,  in  his  1st  chapter. 
It  begins  ‘  If  thou  wouldest  not  be  destitute  of 
saving  grace,’  &c. ;  and  relates  to  the  use  of  reason, 
in  matters  of  religion.  So  much,  indeed,  was  I 
struck  with  it,  that  I  abridged  and  interleaved  it,  for 
my  own  use. 

My  study  of  what  has  been  said  on  Rom.  chap,  vii., 
has  suffered  some  interruption :  partly,  from  visits  to 
neighbouring  clergymen  ;  and  partly,  from  a  bilious 
attack,  that  made  me  incapable  of  exertion.  I  do 
not,  however,  lose  sight  of  it :  and  hope  (with  God’s 
assistance),  however  slowly,  at  length  entirely,  to 
master  it.  I  have  lately  been  led  to  look  into  Farin- 
don’s  sermons ;  and  think  them,  in  many  respects, 
admirable.  He  combats  the  leading  errors  of  Cal¬ 
vinism,  in  a  masterly  manner ;  though,  perhaps, 
sometimes,  too  pointedly,  and  with  too  frequent  re¬ 
ference  to  the  unhappy  circumstances  of  the  times. 
I  have  seldom  read  an  author,  with  so  much  strength 
and  life.  If  I  may  so  speak,  his  style  is  altogether 
personified.  On  comparing  a  page  of  Barrow,  with 
a  page  of  Farindon,  I  cannot  but  give  a  decided 
preference  to  the  latter.  Barrow  speaks,  as  to  beings 
of  pure  intellect.  Farindon,  as  to  human  creatures, 
with  passions  and  affections  ;  at  the  same  time,  con¬ 
vincing  the  judgment,  as  he  goes  along.  He  excels, 
particularly,  in  appropriate,  and  most  forcible  illus¬ 
tration  ;  and  paraphrases  his  quotations  in  such  a 
manner,  as  to  give  them  the  happiest  air  of  allu¬ 
sion.  Perhaps  a  mixture  of  Baxter,  Farindon,  and 
Doddridge,  would  furnish  a  style  and  manner,  best 
suited  to  pulpit  instruction  in  these  times.  This, 
after  all,  is  possibly  false  criticism :  or,  if  it  be  true, 
has  certainly  occurred  to  yourself.  Why,  then,  should 


163 


I  write  it  to  you  ?  In  truth,  I  have  set  up  a  top,  to 
use  John  Hale’s  expression,  .  .  in  hopes  that  you 
may  be  induced  to  whip  it. 

I  heard  of  some  little  irregularities  in  your  friend 

- :  for  instance,  .  .  interrupting  the  lessons  of  the 

church,  for  the  purpose  of  lecturing,  paragraph  by 
paragraph,  as  he  went  along.  This  practice,  I  under¬ 
stand,  was  pursued  for  some  time :  in  fact  till - 

interfered,  and  publicly  stopped  Mr. - ,  who  came 

one  day  to  officiate  for - •.  I  hope - »*s  manner 

was  not  harsh ;  and  I  feel  truly  desirous  that  he  may 
be  very  moderate,  in  his  way  of  meeting  those  things 
which  he  disapproves ;  as  well  from  an  assurance  that 
Mr. -  is  a  truly  good  man,  as  from  a  full  con¬ 

viction,  that,  without  a  spirit  of  meekness,  and  even 
without  a  disposition  to  yield  a  little  in  nonessentials, 
no  good  can  be  done  in  such  cases.  I  have  it  in 
contemplation  to  pay  a  visit  to - ,  early  in  Feb¬ 

ruary  ;  and  to  be  present  at  a  meeting  of  the  Osso- 
rian  Society.  I  may,  perhaps,  learn  something  useful 
for  myself  ;  and,  at  all  events,  am  desirous  to  see  for 
myself  how  things  are  :  possibly  I  may  be  able  to 
throw  out  some  hints  for  — — ’s  consideration.  And, 
as  the  zeal  of  these  young  men  has  occasioned  much 
talk ;  and  their  practices  have  been  freely  censured, 
even  by  our  good  Archbishop,  I  am  disposed  to 
examine  whether,  as  I  suspect,  there  are  not  many 
qualifying,  if  not  favourable  circumstances,  indus¬ 
triously  kept  in  the  back  ground  by  their  opponents. 
The  worst  is,  that  I  fear  they  are  generally  calvinistic  ; 
and  calvinists  are  usually  impracticable.  By  the  bye, 

as  to - ’s  mode  of  lecturing,  it  is  curious,  that 

he  adopted  it,  from  the  suggestion  in  my  sermon  ; 
which  he  so  far  misunderstood,  as  to  conceive,  that  it 

m  2 


164< 


referred,  particularly,  to  the  lessons  of  the  day,  and 
even  implied  an  interruption  of  the  service. 

I  lately  received,  from  what  quarter  I  am  igno¬ 
rant,  unless  it  be  through  my  friend  Mr.  Sharp,  a 
printed  circular  letter,  from  the  society  in  London, 
for  missions  to  Africa,  and  the  east ;  stating  their 
plans,  their  progress,  and  the  situation  of  their 
finances ;  and  requesting  my  aid,  in  procuring  dona¬ 
tions  and  subscriptions  :  suggesting,  also,  a  collec¬ 
tion,  from  my  congregation.  Some  few  and  small 
subscriptions,  I  believe,  I  could  procure ;  but  con¬ 
gregation  I  have  next  to  none.  The  society, 
however,  seems  highly  deserving  of  encouragement 
and  assistance.  It  occupies  the  ground,  hitherto, 
untouched,  by  any  other  society  of  the  established 
church  ;  and  its  plans  seem  to  be  under  the  guidance 
of  wisdom,  and  sound  discretion.  Might  not  some¬ 
thing  handsome  be  done  in  Dublin?  Its  inhabitants 
have  been  unused  to  appeals  of  this  nature,  from 
the  established  pulpit :  and  the  novelty  of  the  sub¬ 
ject  might,  perhaps,  make  a  strong  impression.  Ifj 
indeed,  the  society  is  chiefly  conducted,  by  what  are 
called  evangelical  ministers,  &c.  in  England,  a  pre¬ 
judice  might  hence  arise  against  it :  but  no  such 
prejudice  would  arise  against  it,  if  a  few  leading 
people  were  interested  in  its  favour.  I  conceive  a 
charity  sermon  would  raise  a  handsome  sum.  Should 
you  approve  of  the  society,  and  of  this  hint,  and 
should  any  leading  people  coincide  with  you,  there 
would  probably  be  no  want,  in  Dublin,  of  fit  persons 
to  preach  the  sermon  :  or,  in  the  event  of  any 
difficulty  in  that  respect,  rather  than  let  the  scheme 
fall  to  the  ground,  I  would  endeavour  to  prepare 
myself;  and  so  to  time  my  visit  to  Dublin,  as  would 
best  suit  the  purpose.  It  might,  perhaps,  not  be 


165 


unserviceable,  to  give  a  Dublin  congregation  a  view 
of  missions,  which  probably  has  never  been  presented 
to  them.  Preachers  on  this  topic,  generally  look,  to 
the  immediate  introduction  of  Christianity  among  the 
heathen.  This  object,  after  centuries  of  experiment, 
has  been  but  very  partially  attained ;  and  hence 
arises  a  prejudice  against  missions  in  general,  as 
unproductive  of  good.  The  prejudice,  however,  may 
be  met,  and  perhaps  overcome,  by  placing  the  matter 
in  a  more  philosophical  light ;  and  representing 
missions  as  a  preparative  process, .  .  laying  the  neces¬ 
sary  foundation  of  civilized  habits,  &c.  &c. 

I  fear  I  have  exhausted  your  patience,  which  I 
would  not  wish  to  do,  for  I  am, 

Dear  Sir,  your  truly  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  22. 


Bellvue,  Delganny,  Jan.  7.  1805. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

It  has  not  been  from  want  of  inclination,  that  I 
have  delayed  answering  your  last  letter.  It  has 
been  on  my  thoughts,  and  in  my  wishes  ;  but 
various  avocations  occur,  even  in  my  quiet  and  still 
life,  which  occasion  inevitable  postponements.  But 
this  I  tell  you,  . .  I  value  all  your  letters,  and  all 
your  communications,  much  more,  I  imagine,  than 
you  do  yourself. 

I  must  say  something,  first,  about  matters  not 
adverted  to  in  that  of  the  26th  of  November.  I 
tell  you  then,  in  the  simplicity  of  my  heart,  that 

m  3 


I  did  not  thoroughly  cotton  to  your  intended  course 
of  reading.  1  have  no  small  opinion  of  your  stability 
of  mind  ;  but  still,  4  Lead  us  not  into  temptation/ 
is  a  lesson,  as  much  as  a  petition  ;  and  you  have  a 
mind,  which,  if  once  impregnated  with  any  senti¬ 
ment,  introducing  itself  as  a  truth,  would,  I  appre¬ 
hend,  take  to  it  strongly.  I  should,  however,  have 
no  idea  of  your  shrinking  from  any  investigation, 
provided  you  had  adequate  possession  of  all  necessary 
preliminary  truths.  It  is  about  this  I  am  solicitous. 
Were  I  sure  here,  I  should  not  be  uneasy. 

I  own,  I  have  as  much  aversion,  as  is  consistent 
with  good  nature  and  Christian  charity,  to  the  whole 
socinian  tribe.  The  system  has  grown  out  of  certain 
concurrent  characters  of  mind  ;  led,  by  contingency, 
into  theological  disquisition.  When  a  calm,  cold, 
steady,  subtle,  self-confident  temper,  .  .  benevolent 
without  passion,  moral  without  coercion,  happens 
to  be  revolted  by  the  excesses  of  Calvinism,  it, 
almost  by  a  necessity  of  nature,  runs  back  into  so- 
cinianism.  To  such  a  disposition,  there  is  no  inter¬ 
mediate  barrier,  and  there  are  some  strong  attractive 
influences  :  .  .  socinianism,  flattering  human  reason  so 
peculiarly,  by  bringing  all  Christianity,  as  is  pretended, 
within  its  comprehension.  Of  this  system,  . .  man’s 
power  to  keep  God’s  commandments,  either  by  his 
own  proper  strength,  or  with  some  derived  aids, 
which  are  so  described,  as,  in  my  mind,  to  make  little 
difference, .  .  is  a  fundamental  principle  ;  and,  there¬ 
fore,  they  who  hold  it,  naturally  take  the  opposite 
side  to  St.  Augustine,  in  explaining  Rom.  vii.  Doing 
this,  however,  under  the  propulsion  of  their  general 
scheme,  and  not  from  unbiassed,  discriminative  study 
of  revealed  truth  ;  and  for  human  truth,  I  certainly 
give  them  no  great  credit.  I  seem,  to  be  sure,  to  see 


167 


them  on  the  same  piece  of  ground  with  myself ;  but 
I  cannot  help  asking,  how  they  came  there,  as  I  per¬ 
ceive  no  key  in  their  hands.  I  suspect  them,  there¬ 
fore,  of  having  got  to  the  spot  which  they  occupy,  by 
breaking  hedge.  And,  besides,  when  I  look  more 
narrowly,  I  doubt  if  they  are,  after  all,  on  the  same 
ground  with  me.  If  I  mistake  not,  a  deep  river,  not 
apparent  at  first  view,  runs  between  us  j  which  can 
neither  be  forded,  nor  stepped  over. 

To  drop  allegory,  I  freely  own  my  suspicion,  that 
their  doctrine  of  moral  perfection  rests,  not  only  on 
high  views  of  human  power,  but  on  low  views  of 
moral  sentiment.  I  never  read  any  of  the  Fratres 
Poloni ;  but  I  have  looked  at  the  view  of  this  sub¬ 
ject,  given  by  the  great  arminian  theologist,  Lim- 
borch  ;  and  it  struck  me,  that  his  perfection,  was 
rather  of  a  moral,  than  of  a  spiritual  kind  ;  such  as 
might  be  attained  by  a  good  temperament,  without 
much  felt  obligation  to  Divine  influence.  I  allow 
that  the  description  appears  to  rise  much  higher  ; 
but  I  could  not  help  suspecting,  that  it  was  only 
appearance,  from  the  slight  view  that  seemed  to  be 
taken  of  human  depravity.  A  deep  sense  of  this, 
appears  to  me  as  necessary  to  true  Christian  perfec¬ 
tion,  as  a  sufficiently  deep  foundation,  is  necessary 
for  a  lofty  building.  But  I  hardly  think  he  can 
have  this,  who  denies,  that  that  4  infection  of  nature  ’ 
which  6  doth  remain  in  them  that  are  regenerated’ 
(Art.  ix.  Church  of  England),  hath  in  it  the  nature 
of  sin.  That,  when  duly  resisted,  so  as  not  to 
grow  into  volition,  it  brings  no  condemnation  to 
the  conscience,  is  agreed  on  all  hands.  But  I  am 
ready  to  think,  that  a  feeling  of  its  being  sin,  in 
esse,  though  not  in  actu,  is  essential  to  that  very 
resistance.  We  are  curious  machines,  whose  weights 

m  4 


168 


and  springs  depend,  on  laws  that  we  cannot  alter. 
If  the  weight  be  deficient,  the  wheels  will  not  move 
as  they  ought ;  nor  can  the  error  be  removed,  but 
by  removing  the  cause,  i.  e.  by  correcting  the  de¬ 
ficiency.  We  will  not,  therefore,  I  conceive,  flee 
from  every  appearance  of  evil,  except  we  cordially 
hate  and  dread  it,  root  as  well  as  branch.  Accord¬ 
ingly,  if  we  deem  the  first  movements  of  concu¬ 
piscence  to  have  nothing  sinful  in  them,  nothing 
offensive  to  the  nature  of  the  all  perfect  God,  we 
shall  not  so  abhor  them,  as  to  escape  wholly  their 
contaminating  influence. 

In  fact,  I  think,  at  least  I  hold  it  as  a  strong 
probability,  that  the  peculiar  graces  of  Christianity 
have  all  a  reference,  to  the  previous  vices  of  our 
nature  ;  so  that  each  particular  grace,  contains  in  it 
the  conquest  of  an  opposite  evil ;  the  keeping  of 
which  latter  tight  in  its  chain,  is  the  first,  and  most 
indispensable  exercise  of  the  former.  The  evan¬ 
gelical  Christian  feels,  that  he  did  not  even  put  on 
the  chain.  These  monsters  were  once  his  favourites, 
the  domesticated  menials  of  his  house.  But,  at 
length,  he  began  to  see  a  design  in  them,  which  he 
was  not  till  then  aware  of ;  and  as  he  ceased  to 
caress  them,  they  appeared  to  change  their  nature, 
and  to  be  ready  to  devour  him.  He  called  to  heaven 
for  help  ;  and,  after  much  fear,  and  perhaps  horror, 
he  began  to  perceive  that  they  were  chained,  as  if 
by  some  invisible  power  ;  and  that  the  chains  were 
given  into  his  hands,  with  an  assurance  of  fresh  aid, 
if  any  of  the  monsters  should  seem  to  be  becoming 
unmanageable.  None  of  them,  therefore,  is  wholly 
dead ;  it  only  sleeps,  and  may  be  awaked  5  there¬ 
fore,  the  vigilance  must  never  be  relinquished,  the 
chain  never  dropped.  It  is  a  horrible  monster,  be 


169 


it  ever  so  quiet ;  and  in  knowing  and  feeling  that, 
consists  the  best  security.  This  knowledge,  and 
this  feeling,  the  literal  arminians  appear  to  me 
deficient  in  ;  and,  therefore,  I  fear  a  fallacy  in 
their  perfection  ;  for,  as  I  conceive  the  state  of 
regeneration  depends  on  the  effectual  restraint  of 
the  aforesaid  monsters,  in  general,  .  .  so,  I  believe 
perfection  consists  in  an  equally  effectual  restraint  of 
the  parent  monster ,  in  particular.  I  think,  to  make 
out  my  metaphor  (I  am  strangely  metaphorical  by 
the  bye  this  morning)  I  must  suppose  these  monsters 
to  be  of  the  polypus  kind  ;  so  that  the  due  restraint 
of  the  parent,  shall  be  the  summary  restraint  of  the 
whole.  But  this  will  not  be  done,  if  the  malignity 
of  the  parent  be  not  felt  as  strongly,  as  that  of  her 
multifarious  offspring. 

I  will  not  ask,  whether  1  have  made  myself  in¬ 
telligible  ;  because  I  trust  to  your  power  of  finding 
me  out.  But  I  wish  you  to  consider  how  essential 
an  ingredient,  such  a  thorough,  radical  sense  of 
depravity,  as  I  have  mentioned,  is  to  every  stage 
of  true  Christianity.  Indeed,  if  I  were  to  state  what 
I  take  to  be  the  truest  mark  of  difference,  between 
a  genuine  Christian,  and  a  mere  moralist,  pharisaieal 
or  philosophical,  I  would  say,  that  the  latter  found 
his  ease  in  being  insensible  to  his  ‘  secret  faults,’ 
while  the  former  is  then  easiest,  when  he  is  most 
tenderly  sensible  of  them.  The  moralist,  naturally 
wishes  to  discover  no  more,  than  he  has  the  means 
of  conquering.  The  Christian,  on  the  contrary,  is 
solicitous  to  detect  every,  the  minutest,  as  well  as 
the  deepest  evils ;  because  he  knows,  that  the 
omnipotent  Saviour  is  able  to  save  to  the  utter¬ 
most,  all  that  come  unto  God,  by  him  ;  and  that 
what  he  said  to  St.  Paul,  he  said  to  all  his  faithful 


170 


followers,  4  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,  for  my 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness.’  The  Chris¬ 
tian,  therefore,  says  unfeignedly,  with  the  same 
apostle,  4  When  I  am  weak,  then  I  am  strong .  . 
knowing  well,  that  nothing  can  prevent  the  success 
of  the  process,  but  his  own  insensibility  to  the  need 
of  it. 

I  even  sometimes  fear,  that  my  own  favourite 
latitudinarians  were  not  as  much  alive  to  this  depth 
of  depravity,  as  might  be  wished.  But,  perhaps, 
they  could  not  in  the  nature  of  things ;  yet  they  are 
nobly  spiritual,  and  that  implied  the  substance  of 
the  other.  We,  however,  at  this  day,  may  be  able, 
if  we  use  the  means  afforded,  to  combine  apparently 
opposite  truths,  more  completely  than  they. 

I  must  now  add  only  one  more  observation  ;  the 
messenger  who  takes  this,  being  at  this  moment  de¬ 
tained  by  me.  It  is  relative  to  the  missions.  I 
own  I  doubt  the  business  altogether.  Perhaps  it  is 
prejudice,  but  I  have  no  clear  hope  of  these  plans. 
I  suspect  even  something,  which  I  should  dislike.  It 
seems  to  me  possible  at  least,  that  the  evangelic 
clergymen  took  up  their  missionary  plan,  because 
the  dissenters  and  Dr.  Haweis  had  engaged  in  a 
similar  undertaking  ;  and  they  thought  they  ought 
to  be  doing  something  too.  They  would  not  (I 
dare  say  on  just  grounds  enough)  join  with  them ; 
but  neither,  on  the  other  hand,  did  they  think  it 
right  to  be  outdone  in  zeal.  If  this  was  their  feel¬ 
ing,  I  think  it  not  a  wise  one.  Imitatores  servum 
pecus,  is  true  in  all  matters  but  the  essence  of 
religion.  There,  and  there  only,  it  is  well  to  be 
4  followers  of  those,  who  through  faith  and  patience 
inherit  the  promises.’  There  would  be  something  of 
worldly  policy  in  such  a  conduct,  unworthy  of  the 


171 


true  Christian  principle.  Besides,  1  really  think 
that,  in  such  matters  particularly,  ‘  it  is  not  of  him 
that  willeth,  or  of  him  that  runneth  .  .  on  the  con¬ 
trary,  . . 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way, 

His  wonders  to  perform. 

1  have  another  objection  to  such  plans  ;  . ,  because 
they  tend  to  make  religion  appear  to  the  world  a 
business  of  bustle ,  and  to  have  something  of  a  revo¬ 
lutionary  character.  The  quiet  moravian  missions,  if 
not  effectual,  are  at  least  unobjectionable  5  for  they 
are  heard  of  at  a  distance,  but  make  no  show  at 
home.  In  fact,  I  think  over-activity,  is  the  grand 
malady  of  the  times ;  and  I  think  religion  will  not 
be  benefited,  by  its  votaries  catching  the  contagion. 
I  think  the  whole  missionary  plan,  supposes  an  effici¬ 
ency,  in  what  are  deemed  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel, 
which  you  and  I  do  not  admit.  They  annex  more 
than  we  do,  to  annunciation  of  truth  on  the  one 
hand,  and  a  reception  of  it  (which  they  call  faith)  on 
the  other.  But  we  do  not  agree  with  the  most  of 
them,  perhaps,  even  in  what  they  call  truth ;  so 
that,  on  the  whole,  I  am  much  more  solicitous  to  see 
divine  truth  thoroughly  understood,  and  received  in 
the  love  of  it  at  home  ;  .  .  and,  then,  I  think  we  shall 
be  made  instruments  in  God’s  own  way,  probably 
without  much  scheming,  to  carry  it  to  other  lands. 

If  I  do  not  now  say  any  thing  about  your  own 
private  concerns,  it  is  not  that  I  am  not  interested, 
for  you  may  always  believe  me, 

Your  truly  faithful  and 

affectionate  friend, 

Alexander  Knox. 

P.S.  I  must  end  this  without  reading  it  over. 


LETTER  XXI  V. 


To  A.  Knox ,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Feb.  11.  1805. 


My  dear  Sir, 

Al  ong  with  this,  I  take  the  liberty  of  sending  you 

a  MS.  the  property  of  - ,  which  I  have  had 

in  my  possession,  to  my  shame,  more  than  seven 
years ;  and  which  I  should  be  very  much  obliged  by 
your  conveying  to  him.  It  is  a  treatise  on  the  attri¬ 
butes,  &c.,  which  obtained  the  second  premium  in  the 
year  1797>  when  mine  obtained  the  first. 

I  had  a  letter,  yesterday,  from  - ,  in  which 

he  tells  me,  that  methodist  preachers  have  found 
their  way  into  his  parish ;  and  that  he  under¬ 
stands  they  intend  establishing  regular  stated  meet¬ 
ings  there.  He  wished  (thinking  that  I  was  still  in 
town)  that  I  should  ask  your  opinion  as  to  the  most 
prudent  line  of  conduct,  if  the  preacher  should  make 
an  advance  towards  acquaintance  and  friendship  with 
him,  as  he  is  told  by  some,  he  means  to  do ;  that  is, 

the  preacher  intends  to  call  on  - ,  as  a  friend 

and  well-wisher. 

- appears  anxious  for  your  opinion  and  advice  ; 

arid  I  could,  indeed,  be  very  glad,  that  you  would 
write  him  a  few  lines  on  the  subject.  I  know,  from 
various  conversations  with  him,  that  he  is  far  from 
prejudiced  against  methodism  ;  that  he  thinks  it  has, 
on  the  whole,  promoted  the  cause  of  piety ;  and 
that  were  he,  in  a  strange  part  of  the  country,  to 
meet  a  person  of  the  lower  class,  more  than  ordinarily 
decent,  serious,  and  devout,  he  would  think  that 
person,  most  probably,  a  methodist.  At  the  same 


time,  I  can  well  conceive  the  delicacy  and  difficulty 
of  the  case  he  now  puts ;  so  much  so,  that  I  should 
not  myself  know  how  to  act  in  it.  I  really  wish  you 
would  write  him,  by  this  post,  if  it  were  but  a  single 
page ;  as  the  emergency  may  soon  occur,  and  as  I 
know  he  is  particularly  solicitous  for  your  opinion. 

I  should  be  much  obliged  by  your  enclosing  me, 
as  soon  as  possible,  your  letter  to  the  Christian  Ob¬ 
server,  on  practical  preaching.  Also,  your  long, 
unfinished  letter  to  me.  I  want  them  for  a  particular 
purpose ;  and  will  send  them  back  to  you,  whenever 
transcribed.  You  will,  also,  have  the  goodness  to 
engage  my  worthy  and  respected  friend  Michael*,  in 
the  troublesome  service  of  having  my  books  sent  to 
Cashel. 

When  settled  at  home,  I  hope  to  write  more  at 
length.  I  beg  my  best  compliments  and  regards  to 
Miss  Fergusson,  and  am,  dear  Sir, 

Your  obliged  and 

affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  23. 

Feb.  15.  1805. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

X  duly  received  yours,  and  that  night  wrote  to 
H.  W.,  giving  him  the  best  advice  I  was  capable  of. 

I  send  you  the  unfinished  letters  ;  but  I  cannot  yet 
let  you  have  the  thing  intended  for  the  C.  O.,  as  I 

daily  expect  to  make  some  use  of  it. 

#  #  #  #  #  # 


*  Mr.  Knox’s  servant.  .  .  En, 


17  4 


I  am  creeping  on  in  Epictetus,  and  I  wonder  at 
what  I  find  in  it :  such  magnificent  morality,  on  the 
one  hand ;  and  such  instances  of  ignorance  and  error 
blended  with  it,  on  the  other.  He  strongly  saw  the 
substance  of  that  frame  of  mind,  which  was  necessary 
to  passing  comfortably  through  this  world.  But  he 
did  not  distinctly  perceive  its  limit.  He  knew  no  way 
of  healing  the  maladies  of  the  passions,  but  by  extir¬ 
pation  of  the  passions  themselves.  Thus, 

Ef  7rpoxo\pou  QeTiEig,  atysg  rovg  roiouroug  $iahoyi(r[j,oug. 
eocv  afj.s7\.r}(ra)  rcou  e[mmv,  oux  e^o)  $iar%o(pag.  eolv  [xrj  xo^acrco 
rov  7 rct&cc,  7 ronipog  egtoli.  7r%E7rov  yoip  'ki^orj  a7roSocvEiv, 
OLhvirov  xou  a(po£ov  yiuofxsuou,  t\  £Vjv  sv  a (pSouoig  tol^olo-cto- 

[ASVOV  XpEITTOV  $E  TOV  7 TOLUOL  XOLXOV  ElVOLl ,  7]  (TE  XOOCofioU- 

[aovol,  .  .  Cap.  1.  * 

Here,  the  confounding,  solicitude  for  a  child’s 
virtue,  with  those  things  which  ‘  the  Gentiles  seek/ 
is  a  strange  instance  of  confusion.  It  is  almost  as 
strange  for  him,  in  the  end  of  the  twenty-first 
chapter,  to  introduce  Diogenes  as  oc^icog  Ssiog,  on  ac¬ 
count  of  his  moderation.  Yet,  how  true  are  the 
greater  number  of  his  sentiments ;  and  how  astonish¬ 
ingly  cutting  in  stone  a  likeness,  of  what  the  Gospel 
presents  alive ! 

In  his  thirteenth  chapter  he  says,  N oo-og,  (rco[xarog 

E(TTIV  E[X7T0^10V,  77poaipE(TECOg  $£,  OV.  f  Upon  this,  flis  cJlVlS - 

tian  commentator,  Casaubon,  pronounces  this  cen¬ 
sure,  .  .  morbos  corporis  ad  animum  mentemve,  nihil 
pertinere ;  nec  per  illos  obstare,  quin  sapiens  sua 
felicitate,  id  est  plena  solidaque  mentis  sanitate 

*  If  thou  wouldest  advance  towards  perfection,  lay  aside  such  reasonings  as 
these.  .  .  If  I  neglect  my  worldly  affairs,  I  shall  want  bread.  Unless  I  chastise  my 
slave,  lie  will  become  wicked.  .  .For  it  is  better  to  die  of  hunger,  being  free  from 
grief  and  fear,  than  to  live  in  affluence,  with  a  troubled  heart ;  it  is  better  that 
thy  slave  should  be  a  wretch,  than  thou  wretched. 

t  Disease  fetters  the  body,  but  not  the  will. 


fmatur;  id  ab  omni  ratione  et  communi  usu  tam 
remotum  mihi  videtur,  ut  non  tam  in  eorum  genera 
quae  paradoxa  vocantur  ponendum,  quam  fatuum  et 
ridiculum  videatur*  :  . .  and,  in  proof  of  his  opinion, 
he  adduces  raging  fevers,  and  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog. 
But  is  not  this  to  push  Epictetus  to  an  unfair  ex¬ 
treme?  The  nature  of  the  case  shows,  that  he 
spoke  only  of  cases,  in  which  reason  could  be  exer¬ 
cised  \  and  to  bring  other  cases  to  confute  him,  is  to 
misunderstand  his  meaning.  Doubtless,  he,  and  they 
who  thought  like  him,  talked  extravagantly,  of  what 
human  virtue  could  achieve,  in  victoriousness  over 
calamity.  But  what  was  all  this,  but  blind  nature 
feeling  after  its  supreme  good?  And  after  all,  is  not 
St.  Paul’s  challenge,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  eighth 
of  Romans,  nearly  as  much  open  to  such  a  censure  as 
that  of  Casaubon,  as  what  he  applies  it  to?  The 
marrow  of  true  stoicism,  is  contained  in  that  of  St. 
Paul,  7TOLVTOL  KT^VCO,  £U  Tip  eV$Vm[JLOVVTl  [AS  'X.glTTip.  f 

Yours  always, 

My  good  friend,  most  truly, 

Alexander  Knox. 


*  To  say  that  the  diseases  of  the  body,  have  no  connection  with  the  mind,  and 
do  not  prevent  a  wise  man’s  enjoyment  of  his  proper  happiness,  namely,  of  full 
and  established  health  of  mind,  .  .  seems  to  me  so  far  removed  from  reason  and 
experience,  that  it  deserves  not  so  much  to  be  classed  among  paradoxes,  but  to  be 
treated  rather  as  downright  folly  and  absurdity. 

t  ‘  I  can  do  all  things,  through  Christ  which  strengtheneth  me.’ 


LETTER  XXV. 


To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 

Cashel,  May  7.  1804. 

My  dear  Sir, 

X  am  truly  obliged,  both  to  you  and  Michael,  for  the 
interest  and  trouble  you  have  taken  about  my  books  ; 
and  much  gratified  by  your  pleasant  intelligence,  re¬ 
specting  our  valuable  and  excellent  friend  ;  for  whose 
highest  welfare,  I  think  we  may  safely  say,  we  are 
both  deeply  interested. 

It  strikes  me  that,  on  closer  inspection,  you  will 
find  that  you  have  misunderstood  the  passage  from 
Epictetus,  cap.  16.  Uoug  does  not  there,  to  my  ap¬ 
prehension,  signify  filius,  but  servus  ;  and  you  will 
observe,  that  the  Latin  word  puer,  has  an  ambiguity, 
precisely  similar  to  that  of  the  original  term.  An 
unskilful  division  in  some  editions  (and  most  proba¬ 
bly  in  yours)  tends  to  confuse  the  passage,  and  mis¬ 
lead  the  reader.  Thus,  one  copy,  now  before  me, 
concludes  the  16th  cap.  with  the  same  words,  which 
close  your  quotation,  rj  <re  xoLKo^ai^ovoL,  But  two 
others,  also  before  me,  have,  in  immediate  unbroken 
continuation,  the  words  ap^ou  roiyapouv  cltto  rcov  fxixpcuv, 
&c.  to  TOLpoL%Qr±voLi,  a  mode  of  division  which  leaves  no 
opening  for  mistake.  For  the  context,  thus  taken, 
clearly  shows,  that,  throughout,  reference  is  made,  not 
to  a  man’s  children,  but  to  his  slaves  ;  and  that  the 
object  is,  to  prevent  anxious  solicitude,  about  the 
minute  detail  of  domestic  economy. 

But  it  may  be  said,  and  in  truth  it  has  been  said 
by  commentators,  « Would  it  not  be  the  extreme  of 


177 


selfish  and  cruel  policy,  to  refrain  from  duly  improv¬ 
ing  and  correcting,  and  thus,  eventually,  reforming 
our  servants,  merely  in  order  to  preserve  our  own 
tranquillity?’  To  this  objection,  different  answers 
may  be  offered.  1.  It  may  be  said,  that  the  precept 
goes  on  the  supposition,  that  every  proper  means  of 
reformation  had  been  previously  resorted  to,  and 
without  effect.  But  to  this  salvo,  I  do  not  attribute 
much,  though  it  be  sanctioned  by  the  learned  Wol- 
fius.  2.  It  may,  perhaps,  be  alleged,  that  the  precept 
by  no  means  necessarily  excludes,  the  milder  modes 
of  persuasion  ;  which,  after  all,  are  the  best  modes  of 
leading  people  to  a  sense  of  duty,  and  a  correspondent 
practice.  But  to  this,  you  will  possibly  do  well  to 
pay  no  attention,  as  it  is  merely  my  own  extempore 
idea.  3.  Even  supposing  the  passage  were  exclusive 
of  persuasive  effort,  the  charge  of  cruelty  maybe  met, 
by  considering,  to  whom  the  advice  is  addressed  ;  not 
to  proficients  in  moral  wisdom,  but  to  him  who  only 
7rpoxo^ou  SsTisi,  proficeri  studet ;  to  him  who  is  in 
the  lowest  form  of  the  stoical  school,  and  who  is,  ac¬ 
cordingly,  classed  by  Seneca  ‘  in  numero  stultorum.’ 
(See  his  75th  Epistle,  the  whole  of  which  I  would  be 
very  glad  you  would  read  as  soon  as  possible.  It 
contains  a  most  interesting  view  of  the  progress,  from 
moral  malady  of  the  worst  kind,  not  only  to  sanity, 
but  to  supreme  enjoyment,  the  climax  terminating, 

in  the  wonderful  passage  I  showed  you  at  B - .) 

On  the  whole,  then,  may  not  the  view  of  Epictetus, 
•be  something  to  this  effect ;  that  the  incipient  mo¬ 
ralist,  should  labour,  in  the  first  instance,  to  correct 
himself ;  to  subdue  his  wrong  tempers,  and,  as  an 
exercise  of  self-discipline,  to  refrain  from  abusing  and 
chastising  his  servants,  for  every  failure  and  offence  ? 
Till  the  work  of  self  government  is  somewhat  ad- 

VOL.  I.  N 


178 


vanced,  he  cannot,  either  with  safety  to  himself,  or 
with  probable  advantage  to  his  servant’s  virtue,  pro¬ 
ceed  in  the  work  of  correcting  that  servant.  There¬ 
fore,  the  stoic  would  have  him  4  pluck  the  beam  out 
of  his  own  eye,  that  he  may  see  clearly  to  pull  out 
the  mote  that  is  in  his  brother’s  eye.’  The  style  of 
advice  is  finely  adapted,  to  the  case  of  a  beginner  in 
the  school  of  wisdom  :  oLp^ou  oltto  rm  (Aixpoov.  New 
wine  is  not  put  into  old  bottles,  here.  The  smallest 
privations  are  most  easily  submitted  to  :  the  sacrifice 
of  little  things,  will  be  the  least  difficult ;  and  they 
will,  gradually,  pave  the  way,  for  greater  privations, 
and  more  important  sacrifices.  I  have  been  sadly 
prolix,  and  I  fear  impertinently  and  uselessly  so. 
Yet,  I  have  somewhat  more  to  say.  I  cannot  justify 
the  eulogium  of  Diogenes,  and  will  therefore  pass  on 
to  the  voa-og  (rcofAoiToc;,  &c.  &c.  cap.  13. 

I  perfectly  coincide  with  you  in  opinion,  that  Ca- 
saubon’s  censure  on  this  passage,  is  extremely  unfair. 
It  is  clear,  that  Epictetus  speaks  only  of  cases  where 
reason  can  be  used.  He  first  makes  a  general  state¬ 
ment,  '  Noo-o£  (rco[xotrog ,’  &c.  ;  and  we  have  no  right 
to  extend  the  position  to  diseases,  which  necessarily 
affect  any  thing  but  the  body ;  yet  such  are  4  raging 
fevers,  and  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog,’  for  they,  neces¬ 
sarily,  affect  the  mind.  But  further,  he  then  gives  a 
special  instance,  -^coT^ava-ig.  Which,  I  humbly  con¬ 
ceive,  so  far  limits  the  subject,  as  to  require  that  each 
of  the  e[jL7ri7rTovTcov,  afterwards  referred  to,  should 
be  ejusdem  generis  with  lameness  ;  i.  e.  should  not 
necessarily  interfere  with  the  mental  functions.  The 
reasoning  of  Epictetus,  in  fact,  is  this,  4  Disease  is  not 
an  impediment  to  the  will,  but  to  the  body.’  4  Lame¬ 
ness,  for  instance,  impedes  not  my  will,  but  simply  my 
motion.’  If  I  am  in  my  senses,  I  will  never  propose 


179 


to  perform  on  foot  a  journey,  to  which  I  am  unequal. 
Nor  is  this  restriction  of  further  progress,  an  impedi¬ 
ment  $  for  to  be  free  from  foolish  and  impracticable 
desires,  is,  in  truth,  a  high  privilege.  Simplicius,  the 
disciple  of  Epictetus,  in  his  commentary  on  this  pas¬ 
sage,  remarks  the  peculiar  propriety,  with  which  his 
master,  (who  was  himself  to  tcoixol  oco-Qsvrjg,  xou  %ooKog 
stc  vsag  *)  uses  the  instance  of  lameness.  ‘  Ad¬ 

ducing  his  arguments  from  real  life ;  and  not,  as  is 
too  commonly  the  case,  labouring  to  say  something 
which  may  excite  admiration.’  That  Epictetus  deeply 
and  really  felt,  what  he  said  here,  may,  I  think,  be 
fairly  argued,  from  the  following  charming  passage, 
which  I  extract  from  his  larger  discourse,  given  by 
Arrian.  ‘  What  can  I,  a  lame  old  man,  do,  but  cele¬ 
brate  the  Deity  in  hymns  ?  If  I  were  a  nightingale, 
I  would  perform  the  part  of  a  nightingale.  If  I  were 
a  swan,  that  of  a  swan  :  but  as  I  am  a  rational  being, 
it  is  my  duty  to  sing  hymns  to  God  :  this  is  my 
office  :  I  fulfil  it ;  nor  will  I  cease  to  do  so,  while 
the  power  is  continued  to  me.’  Arrian.  Epit.  lib.  i. 
cap.  16. 

Now  I  am  on  Epictetus,  pray  compare  the  6Zd 
chap,  of  his  Enchiridion,  with  1  Tim.  ii.  9.  The 
coincidence  is  wonderfully  striking,  the  very  words 
the  same.  Is  it  not  highly  probable,  that  the  philo¬ 
sopher  had  read,  at  least  this  production  of  the 
Apostle  ?  Yet  no  commentator  that  I  have  met, 
notices  the  coincidence.  I  hope  that  Ely  Bates  is 
undergoing  a  judicial  reading ;  or  rather,  indeed, 
that  your  review  of  him,  is  in  great  forwardness.  If 
you  can  soon  spare  a  little  time  to  write  to  me,  it 
will  be  a  high  gratification.  Do  not,  however,  think 


*  Weak  in  body,  and  lame  from  liis  youth  up. 

N  °Z 


180 


of  thus  gratifying  me,  till  you  are  completely  in  pos¬ 
session  of  a  leisure  hour. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  your  truly  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 

P.S.  If  you  could  merely  throw  out  for  me  on  half  a 
sheet  of  paper,  the  heads  of  your  scheme  for  a' sermon 
on  the  commandments,  I  would  endeavour  to  fill  up 
your  outline.  A  mere  mention  of  the  disposition  of 
heart,  which  would  imply  the  keeping  of  each  law, 
with  a  numerical  reference  to  any  striking  Scriptures, 
would  be  enough  :  and  this  could  be  comprized  in  a 
quarter  of  a  sheet.  Do  you  wish  for  the  fragments 
of  letters  you  sent  me  ?  If  so,  I  will  transcribe  them, 
and  return  you  the  originals.  They  are  very  satis¬ 
factory  to  me. 


LETTER  XXVI. 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq. 

Cashel,  March  19.  1805. 

My  dear  Sir, 

As  I  do  not  wish  that  any  thing  of  yours,  should 
fall  into  the  hands  of  persons  who  cannot,  in  some 
measure,  appreciate  its  value,  (by  the  way,  doubtful 
whether  this  same  word  appreciate  were  to  be  spelt 
as  above,  or  after  the  latin,  appretiate,  I  took  down 
Johnson’s  Dictionary,  and  was  surprised  to  find  that 
he  omits  it  altogether,)  for  this  reason,  .  .  which  I  wish 
my  parenthesis  may  not  have  removed  absolutely  out 
of  sight, . .  I  hope  that  you  have  not  written,  or  rather 


181 


have  not  sent,  (for  you  often  write  without  sending) 
any  answer  to  my  last  letter ;  or,  to  express  myself 
more  plainly,  as  our  post,  between  Clonmel  and 
Cashel,  has  been  five  times  robbed,  since  my  return 
from  town,  I  hope  that  none  of  the  plunders,  which 
took  place  within  the  last  three  or  four  weeks,  have 
swept  away  any  communication  of  yours.  The 
supineness  of  bur  gentry,  in  these  parts,  may  be 
tolerably  well  guessed  at,  from  the  fact,  that  these 
repeated  robberies  have  not  produced  a  single  effort. 
No  reward  has  been  offered  ;  no  remonstrances  made 
to  the  postmasters-general ;  no  application  to  go¬ 
vernment,  for  a  military  escort.  The  post  still  is 
conveyed  by  a  very  young  boy,  on  a  very  sorry  hack  ; 
and  the  gentlemen  robbers,  whenever  it  suits  their 
convenience  to  stroll  along  the  Clonmel  road,  need 
only  ask  for  the  bag,  which  they  instantly  receive. 
I  do  not  think  these  things  could  be  so  in  the  north. 
There,  the  yeomanry  would  scour  the  country,  and 
detect  the  offenders ;  or,  at  least,  the  gentry  would 
adopt  such  spirited  resolutions,  as  would  deter  them 
from  so  very  daring  a  repetition  of  this  outrage.  But 
too  much  of  this. 

f  I  passed  some  days,  at  the  beginning  of  this  month, 

with  - - ;  and  accompanied  him  to  the  meeting  of 

Ossorian  clergy,  at  Kilkenny.  Much  of  what  I  saw 
gave  me  sincere  pleasure.  There  was  a  decency,  a 
regularity,  a  rationality,  and,  withal,  a  true  piety,  in 
the  proceedings,  which  could  not  but  impress  any 
candid  observer  highly  in  favour  of  the  association. 

Mr. - preached  an  excellent  sermon,  on  1  Cor. 

iii.  21  .  .  23. ;  which,  with  very  few  exceptions,  truly 
gratified  me.  After  the  sermon,  a  chapter  (Jerem. 
xxiii.)  was  read  in  the  vestry  room,  with  some  ob¬ 
servations  from  Mr. - :  next  followed  rather  a 

n  8 


182 


desultory  conversation,  on  a  doctrinal  point  ;  but, 
what  pleased  me  most,  in  the  conversations  of  the 
vestry  room,  were  several  practical  hints,  wisely  and 

kindly  thrown  out  by - ,  and  properly  received 

by  the  rest,  on  the  necessity  of  strict  and  guarded 
attention  to  regularity,  confining  exertions  within  the 
natural  sphere  of  duty,  &c.  This  association,  I  am 
told,  has  not  only  been  the  means,  under  God,  of 
bringing  several  young  men  to  seriousness  ;  but,  also, 
of  keeping  within  bounds,  the  zeal  of  some,  whose  first 
serious  impressions  were  imbibed  through  communi¬ 
cation  with  sectaries  ;  and  who  probably  never  could 
have  been  restrained,  by  the  mere  injunctions  of 
ecclesiastical  superiors.  It  was  even  hinted,  that  the 
effervescence  of  those  persons  might,  possibly,  have 
ultimately  settled,  into  decided  separation  from  our 
establishment :  whereas  they  are  now  thoroughly 
confirmed  in  attachment  to  it.  All  this,  from  what 
I  have  seen,  I  am  well  disposed  to  believe  is  strictly 
true. 

So  much,  is  a  just  tribute  to  truth  ;  and  I  am 
happy  to  pay  it.  X  must  now,  entre  nous,  mention 

what  I  cannot  so  much  approve.  -  appeared, 

that  day,  the  leading  man  ;  and  his  dicta,  seemed 

to  me  almost  implicitly  received.  Now,  - ’s 

opinions,  from  a  little  in  his  sermon,  more  in  the 
vestry  room,  and  still  more  in  private  conversation 

at  - ’s,  I  judge  to  be  highly  calvinistic.  He  is 

practical,  indeed,  decidedly  pious,  and,  as  far  as  I 
can  judge,  of  a  temper  considerably  softened  by  reli¬ 
gion.  He,  also,  has  a  large  share  of  prudence  in 
his  manner  of  stating  things,  which  is,  I  believe, 
the  result  of  much  religious  experience  ;  but  all 
these  circumstances  naturally  tend  to  heighten  his 
influence  5  and,  therefore,  I  judge,  that,  if  his 


thoughts  are  not  already  embraced  by  the  whole 

body,  they  soon  will  be  so.  -  has  them  to 

a  great  degree  :  he  thinks,  I  know,  that  he  has  re¬ 
ceived  them  from  the  Scriptures  ;  but  I  fancy  there  is 
more  of  man’s  teaching  in  it,  than  he  is  aware  of. 
His  head  is  filled  with  notions,  that  he  cannot  ration¬ 
ally  support ;  for,  when  he  attempts  to  do  so,  his 
reasonings  uniformly  terminate  in  a  petitio  principii. 
And  to  change  his  views  would  be  a  hopeless  endea¬ 
vour,  as  he  has  this  rooted  impression,  that  God  has 
promised  to  teach  all,  who  come  to  him  through 
Christ ;  that  God’s  promises  must  be  true  ;  that,  con¬ 
sequently,  all  real  believers  must  have,  in  all  ma¬ 
terial  points,  infallibly  right  views  of  scripture ;  and 
as  he  trusts  he  is  a  real  believer,  the  inference  which 
he  must  draw,  as  to  the  entire  rectitude  of  his  views, 
is  plain. 

The  opinions  which  I  could  collect  as  predominant 
ones  with  either,  were,  that  real  Christians  cannot 
entertain  doctrinal  views  of  an  opposite  nature,  as 
God  cannot  teach  contradictories  ;  that  we  are  to  rest 
upon  no  other  righteousness  than  that  of  Christ.  Here 

- -seems  not  so  decided  as - ,  limiting  himself 

to  this  assertion,  that  Christ’s  righteousness,  is  the 
sole  ground  of  justification  ;  and  that  repentance 
cannot  precede  faith  (Walker’s  idea).  At  the  same 
time,  it  is  but  just  to  say,  that  both  seem  zealous  to 
inculcate  Christian  morality ;  and  desirous  to  have 
realized  within  themselves,  the  gracious  fruits  of  the 
Spirit.  On  the  whole,  I  see  their  association  is  aware, 
that  prudence  must  regulate  their  zeal  5  and  in  this 
respect,  I  think  the  opposition  they  met  with  has 
been  serviceable.  But  I  can  see  no  prospect  of  alter¬ 
ing,  any  doctrinal  views  which  they  have  imbibed  ; 
therefore,  wishing  them  every  success  in  the  sound 

N  4 


184 


and  rational  part  of  their  scheme,  I  do  not  feel  very 
desirous  to  meet  them  often,  as  a  body,  or,  when  I 
meet  any  of  them  as  friends,  to  enter  much  into  doc¬ 
trinal  discussion. 

I  beg  my  kindest  compliments  to  Miss  Fergusson. 
Many  thanks  to  Michael.  I  got  my  books  safe. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  very  truly 

And  affectionately  your’s, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  24. 
To  the  Rev .  /.  Jebb. 


Dawson  St.,  March  28.  1805. 

My  good  Friend, 

Let  me  write  ever  so  briefly,  I  will  write  something, 
lest  you  should  think  I  was  forgetting  you. 

I  was  obliged  for  your  letter  about  the  passage  in 
Epictetus ;  in  your  remarks  on  which,  I  am  sure  you 
are  generally  right,  especially  respecting  Uciig ;  as  is, 
indeed,  proved,  by  the  words  occurring,  in  the  next 
chapter,  in  a  connection  which  makes  it  mean  as 
you  say. 

*##### 

#*#### 

I  am  ready,  sometimes,  to  say  of  myself,  that  I 
am  neither  arminian,  nor  calvinist,  yet,  I  believe, 
calvinists  would  call  me  an  arminian.  But  I  imagine 
the  name  does  not  belong  to  me ;  nor  did  it,  I  think, 


185 


belong  to  John  Wesley.  He  assumed  it ;  but,  I 
conceive,  too  inconsiderately.  I  suspect  Arminius 
had  something  of  the  pelagian  in  him ;  and  his  fol¬ 
lowers  were  wholly  so,  if  not  worse. 

But,  I  think,  of  few  things  I  can  be  more  sure, 
than  that  calvinistic  predestination  is  not  in  the 
Bible  :  providential  predestination  runs  all  through 
it ;  and  a  warm  imagination,  when  once  the  idea  was 
taken  up,  made  it  easy  to  transmute  the  one  into 
the  other.  The  predestination  which  St.  Paul  dwells 
upon,  I  think  is  that,  which  brought  those  whom 
he  addressed,  providentially  within  the  influences  of 
the  Gospel.  And,  to  them  who  stood  critically  within 
the  line,  it  was  a  decree  of  Providence  deserving  to 
be  cordially  felt,  and,  indeed,  necessarily  interesting, 
as  having  been  born  thirty  years  sooner,  might  have 
left  them  in  ignorance  and  darkness. 

That  this,  and  this  only,  is  the  predestination  St. 
Paul  speaks  of  (I  mean  including  all  which  this 
includes),  appears  from  this  obvious  fact,  that,  after 
St.  Paul  has  described  the  whole  nation  as  cut  off,  he 
still  expostulates,  in  order  that,  by  any  means,  he 
might  save  some.  This,  consequently,  was  not  cal- 
vinian  cutting  off;  for,  after  that,  there  is  no  place 
for  repentance.  Yet  this  is  in  the  midst  of  the  part 
of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  which  is  supposed 
most  strongly  to  teach  and  explain,  as  far  as  it  can 
be  explained,  that  doctrine. 

Yet,  how  can  we  fathom  the  mystery  of  provi¬ 
dential  predestination  ?  What  preferences  may  it  not 
imply?  but  surely  not,  in  any  instance,  hopeless, 
inevitable  rejection.  St.  Paul’s  words  just  quoted, 
Rom.  xi.  1A,  prove  he  had  not  such  a  thought,  even 
in  the  case  where  he  has  put  forth  the  supposed 
system  most  elaborately.  And  yet,  if  St.  Paul  had 


186 


clearly  no  such  thought  here,  how  can  the  doctrine 
be  supported  at  all  ?  This  alone  would  satisfy.  But, 
does  not  the  whole  Bible  speak  entirely  the  same 
language  ? 

There  is  one  thing  which  these  theologists  do  not, 
I  think,  enough  consider.  If  absolute,  unconditional, 
indefeasible  election,  be  that,  which  makes  a  man 
holy  here,  and  happy  hereafter ;  and,  if  this  election, 
and  its  results,  be,  as  calvinists  say,  a  mere  matter 
of  will,  .  .  where  is  the  room  for  divine  wisdom  ? 
And  why  so  extended  and  concatenated  an  inter¬ 
vention  of  second  causes,  if  their  operation  was  thus 
infallibly  anticipated  ?  Wisdom  acts  by  instruments  : 
will  fiats  the  thing.  I  will  not  dispute  an  infallibility 
of  wisdom,  and,  of  course,  a  certainty  of  event,  where 
God  sees  right  it  should  be  certain.  But  an  infalli¬ 
bility  of  wisdom,  is  not  an  overwhelming  efficiency 
of  power  ;  which  mere  will  implies  :  nor  can  we  tell, 
how  many  events  in  the  detail,  or  what  events,  or  of 
what  kind,  God  wills  to  be  certain.  May  he  not  will 
suspense,  and  possible  failure,  as  necessary  to  the 
illustration  of  the  operative  wisdom  ?  I  must  stop, 
or  be  too  late. 

Always  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


187 


LETTER  XXVI L 
To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 

Cashel,  23d  April,  1805. 

My  dear  Str, 

I  thank  you  much,  for  your  timely  and  satisfactory 
observations  on  St.  Paul’s  doctrine  of  providential 
predestination.  My  studies  have,  of  late,  been 
much*  interrupted,  by  complaints  of  the  nervous 
kind  :  which  have  altogether  precluded  any  thing  like 
fixedness  of  attention.  Therefore,  what  little  I  have 
read,  has  been  of  various  kinds,  ‘  here  a  little,  and 
there  a  little,’  though  I  cannot  presume  to  say, 
‘  apis  matinae  more  modoque.’  Thank  God,  how¬ 
ever,  I  have  been  much  better  for  these  few  days 
back  ;  I  hope,  by  regimen  and  exercise,  soon  to  be 
in  working  order. 

I  should  be  very  glad  to  know  bow  you  are  pro¬ 
ceeding,  in  the  matters  which  were  on  the  anvil, 
when  I  left  town.  Whether  the  preface  to  Hale’s 
religious  works  is  transmitted,  and  the  work  itself  in 
forwardness?  Whether  the  communications  to  H. 
More  are  completed,  and  her  treatise  will  soon  be 
out?  Whether  you  are  about  making  use  of  the 
letter  to  the  Archbishop  ?  And  whether  you  have 
yet  furnished  a  critique  on  Bates’  Rural  Philo¬ 
sophy  ?  To  all  these  queries,  I  do  not  expect  an¬ 
swers.  It  will,  however,  gratify  me,  if  you  will 
select  such  of  them,  as  may  suit  your  inclination  to 
notice.  I  just  took  up  a  little  publication,  by  your 
friend  Nicole,  which  I  purchased  from  Mr.  Walker. 


188 


It  is  a  selection  of  epigrams,  with  a  very  beautiful 
and  classical  preliminary  dissertation  ;  on  which  you 
may  find  a  high  encomium  in  Bayle’s  Dictionary, 
artic.  Nicole,  note  E.  From  the  preface,  I  will  ex¬ 
tract  a  short  passage,  which,  I  know,  accurately  co¬ 
incides  with  your  modes  of  thinking;  and  which,  if 
you  think  of  defending  classical  study,  against  Mr. 
Bates’  attack,  may  perhaps  be  a  little  to  your  purpose. 

‘  Non  quae  apud  ethnicos  veritas  reperitur,  ideo 
ethnica  est,  aut  ideo  veritas  non  est:  semper  ilia  ex 
aeterno  et  incorrupto  defluit  sole,  qui,  licet  christianos 
abundantiori  lumine  perfuderit,  tamen  ethnicis  non 
ita  se  subtraxit,  ut  illos  penitus  a  luce  sua  secluderet. 
Quod  etiam,  gravibus  et  eruditis  theologis,  quando- 
cunque  ipsorum  libros  attingunt,  pias  et  utiles  com- 
mentationes  suppeditat,  dum  secum  considerant  quid 
ethnici  cognoverint,  quo  progressi  sint,  ubi  substite- 
rint,  et  quam  longe,  obscuris  illis  veritatis  scintillis 
quae  apud  ethnicos  fulserint,  revelatum  fidei  lumen 
excellat.’*  These  thoughts,  I  am  well  aware,  are  by 
no  means  new  to  your  mind.  But  are  they  not  most 
happily  expressed  ?  and  do  they  not  derive  a  peculiar 
force,  from  being  the  sentiments  of  your  favourite 
Nicole  ?  Messieurs  of  Port  Boyal,  indeed,  in  them¬ 
selves,  supply  a  host  of  arguments,  in  support  of 
classical  learning.  Who  more  assiduous  in  the  culti¬ 
vation  of  ethnic  literature  ?  and  yet  who  more  con- 


*  Whatever  truth  existed  among  the  heathen,  is  not,  therefore,  heathenish,  neither, 
therefore,  ceases  to  be  truth.  Truth  has  ever  flowed  from  that  eternal  and  incor¬ 
ruptible  sun,  which,  although  it  shed  a  more  abundant  light  upon  the  Christian 
church,  never,  on  the  other  hand,  so  withdrew  itself  from  the  gentiles,  as  wholly 
to  deprive  them  of  its  rays.  A  fact,  which  even  supplies  pious  and  useful  reflections, 
to  grave  and  learned  divines,  when  engaged  in  the  study  of  profane  literature ;  — 
while  they  revolve  in  their  minds,  what  the  heathen  knew,  whither  they  advanced, 
where  they  stopped  short,  and  how  far  the  revealed  light  of  faith  excels  those 
obscure  scintillations  of  truth,  which  shone  amidst  the  darkness  of  the  gentile 
world. 


versant  in  the  interiora  of  practical  and  spiritual 
religion  ? 

A  letter  lately  received  from  my  friend  Mr.  G. 
Sharp,  has  the  following  P.  S.  ‘  A  new  monthly 
review  of  books  is  proposed  to  be  published,  by  a 
society  of  gentlemen,  under  the  title  of  the  c  Eclectic 
Review/  I  am  not  at  all  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Greathead,  the  chairman  of  the  committee ;  nor,  in¬ 
deed,  even  with  the  names  of  the  other  gentlemen, 
who  form  that  committee ;  but  I  am  desired  by  a 
worthy  friend,  who  is  well  acquainted  with  them,  to 
request,  that  you  will  favour  them  with  such  occa¬ 
sional  remarks  as  you  may  think  proper,  from  time  to 
time.  And,  if  you  desire  a  more  particular  account 
of  the  intentions,  and  views,  of  that  society,  I  am 
desired  to  refer  you  to  Alexander  Knox,  Esq.,  of 
Dublin,  with  whom  I  understand  you  are  acquainted, 
as  he  can  give  you  information  on  that  head.’ 

The  original  cause  of  this  application,  you  well 
know ;  and  you  are,  certainly,  the  best  judge  how 
far  it  can  be  complied  with.  ft  appears  to  me 
very  indefinite ;  and  I  need  not  tell  you,  that  the 
range  is  very  limited,  in  which  I  could  supply  any 
thing  worth  notice.  Now,  probably,  the  line  in 
which  I  would  have,  either  ability,  or  inclination,  to 
give  my  mite  of  assistance,  is  already  filled  up.  At 
your  discretion,  however,  I  leave  the  matter.  If  you 
think  there  are  any  works  newly  afloat,  which  would 
afford  me  an  opportunity  of  throwing  out  hints  of  a 
useful  tendency  ;  and  if,  also,  you  deem  the  Eclectic 
Review,  a  fit  medium  of  doing  so ;  I  would  gladly 
endeavour  to  do  my  best.  I  certainly  do  not  think 
very  highly  of  the  work  ;  but  it  may  mend. 


190 


LETTER  25. 


April  26.  1805. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

#  #  #  *  *  * 

%  #  #  #  #  # 

I  have  been  proceeding  slowly  with  my  review, 
which  is  now  not  far  off  a  close  ;  at  least,  I  have  got 
through  three  fourths.  I  wrought,  rather  because  I 
would  do  it ;  except  where  I  was  giving  vent  to  my 
own  feelings,  as  in  vindicating  classical  education, 
&c.  In  fact,  Ely  Bates  has  not  risen  with  me,  on 
closer  acquaintance.  I  still  think  it  a  very  useful, 
and  sincerely  pious  book.  But  it  is  superficial  every 
where,  a  very  few  instances  excepted,  unless  where 
piety  gives  it  solidity.  He  has  adopted,  also,  some 
opinions  of  a  very  uncomfortable  kind,  drawn,  as  I 
think,  from  Locke’s  principles ;  which  make  him 
turn  out  less  congenial  to  me,  than  I  thought  him  at 
first.  But  I  manage  him  respectfully  ;  and  as  gently 
as  I  can,  without  sacrificing  truth. 

The  letter  to  the  Archbishop  remains  finished, 
but  untranscribed.  The  communications  you  ask 
about  were  long  since  done  ;  and  as  it  happened,  in 
the  nick  of  time.  I  had  a  letter,  marked  with  some 
solicitude,  just  a  day  or  two  after  I  had  dispatched 
the  last.  The  work,  I  believe,  is  published  this 

week  in  London.  -  vexed  me  no  little,  by 

speaking  of  it,  though  I  had  mentioned  it  to  him 
in  the  profoundest  secrecy.  The  author  heard  of  its 
divulgement ;  and  wrote  to  me  on  the  subject :  you 
will  judge  how  mortifying  this  was.  But  I  neither 


191 


told  the  Archbishop,  nor  his  brother - who  has 

been  in  town,  and  went  off  this  morning.  I  wrote 
strongly  to  himself,  and  he  was  vexed  sufficiently ; 
so  be  you  locked  up.  Hale’s  preface  I  could  not  go 
on  with.  The  other  business,  and  extra-matters  which 
occurred,  made  it  impossible. 

One  of  these  extras,  was  a  letter  to  Mr.  Butter- 
worth,  on  the  usefulness  of  devout  people  attending 
divine  worship,  when  a  form  was  used  ;  in  order  to 
try  how  mere  piety  could  engage  them,  without  aid 
from  exciting  circumstances.  Mr.  B.  was  some  weeks 
before  he  answered  me :  but  I  heard  of  my  letter 

from - ,  to  whom  a  dissenter  in  the  Isle  of  Wight, 

just  returned  from  London,  gave  such  an  account  of 

a  letter  he  had  heard  read,  while  in  town,  that - , 

who  knew  nothing  of  my  having  written  such  a  letter, 
knew  it  to  be  mine.  The  pleasant  circumstance  is, 

that  a  dissenter  should  like  it  so. 

*  #  #  #  #  # 

##*### 

I  could  wish  you  to  write  a  review  of  the  book 
which  is  just  coming  out.*  It  would  be,  I  expect, 
just  ft  for  you.  And  I  think  I  will  mention  it  to 
Mr.  Greathead,  when  I  write  to  him ;  which  will  be 
shortly.  Have  you  read  the  remarks  on  Cowper,  in 
the  March  Christian  Observer?  I  think  they  are 
very  judicious.  I  am  endeavouring,  at  intervals,  to 
new  modify  my  paper  on  experimental  preaching; 
and  hope  soon  to  have  it  complete. 

On  the  subject  of  predestination,  I  humbly  think 


*  Mrs.  Hannah  More’s  ‘  Hints  for  the  Education  of  a  Young  Princess,’  in 
which  Mr.  Knox  took  peculiar  interest ;  having  been  on  a  visit  with  the  excellent 
author,  when  engaged  in  the  composition  of  this  work,  which  was  materially- 
benefited  by  his  strictures,  and  enriched  by  his  suggestions.  .  .  Ed. 


✓ 


192 


it  is  demonstrable,  that  the  calvinistic  view  of  it  has 
no  support,  either  from  Scripture,  or  the  course  of 
things.  The  terms  ‘  elegit  in  Christo  ad  aeternam  glo- 
riam,  idque  ex  amore  suo  et  gratia  mere  gratuita,  nec 
fide  nec  bonis  operibus,  nec  in  his  iilave  perseverantia, 
aut  ulla  alia  re  in  creatura  prsevisis,  ipsum  tanquam 
causis  aut  conditionibus  ad  id  moventibus,  quo  totum 
nempe  in  laudem  cederet  gloriosse  suae  gratiae,’ .  .  * 
are,  in  my  judgment,  little  short  of  their  own  confuta¬ 
tion.  For,  if  this  were  so,  why  was  it  necessary  to  wait 
for  the  fulness  of  time  ?  What  was  that  fulness,  but 
suitableness  to  God’s  design,  which  his  divine  pur¬ 
pose,  not  to  force  effects,  but  to  wait  for  events, 
made  necessarily  a  business  of  procrastination.  But 
does  not  suitableness  of  time,  resolve  itself  into  suit¬ 
ableness  of  individuals  ?  and  did  not  this  suitable¬ 
ness,  operate  in  that  analogical  sense,  in  which, 
alone,  we  can  speak  here,  as  a  motive  to  the  great 
Disposer?  In  fact,  in  their  zeal  to  exalt  God’s  will, 
they,  in  a  manner,  as  far  as  in  them  lies,  deprive  him 
of  his  wisdom  :  for  wisdom  must  have  something  to 
reason  upon,  and  be  guided  by ;  but,  what  is  there 
here,  where  not  only  foreseen  faith,  and  good  works, 
and  perseverance,  are  thrown  out,  but  ulla  alia  res 
must  be  denied  too  ?  Does  not  this  involve  as  great 
contradiction  as  human  language  can,  to  all  that 
plain  sense  would  dictate  ?  Besides,  St.  Paul  says, 
‘  whom  he  did  foreknow,  he  also  did  predestinate.’ 
But  this  foreknowledge  must  have  had  an  object,  and 

*  He  hath  fore-ordained  the  elect  in  Christ  unto  eternal  glory,  and  that  of  his 
own  mere  love,  and  gratuitous  grace,  neither  faith,  nor  good  works,  nor  perse¬ 
verance  in  either,  nor  any  thing  else  foreseen  in  the  creature,  impelling  him,  as 
causes  or  conditions,  to  the  act  of  election  ;  in  order  that  all  things  may  turn  to 
the  praise  of  His  glorious  grace. 


193 


a  purpose.  What  was  its  purpose,  if  nothing  fore¬ 
seen  was  to  be  acted  upon  ?  Is  it  not  much  more 
congruous  with  sacred  writ,  and  right  reason,  to 
suppose,  that  God,  having  subjected  this  world  to 
certain  laws,  and,  amongst  the  rest,  to  that  of  free- 
agency,  or  what  we  call  by  that  name,  . .  in  his  plans 
of  grace,  he  takes  every  thing  which  those  laws  lead 
to  into  the  account ;  and  adapts  his  divine  plans  to 
those  various  results,  so  that  there  is  the  greatest 
possible  distance  from  that  arbitrary  system,  with 
which  Calvinism  disturbs  the  mind. 

Yours  always, 

Alex.  Knox, 


LETTER  XXVIIL 


To  A .  Knox ,  Esq . 


My  dear  Sir, 


Cashel,  May  6.  1805, 


Though  I  cannot  answer  your  very  kind,  and  very 
full  letter  of  April  26,  as  I  could  wish,  I  wish  to 
answer  it  as  I  can,  before  I  set  out  on  a  four  days’ 
excursion,  to  visit  two  brother  clergymen.  I  am  very 
glad  that  I  happened  to  hear,  both  of  your  illness  and 
recovery,  at  the  same  time.  This  saved  me  much 
uneasiness ;  and  I  trust  that  there  is  now  no  danger 
of  relapse.  The  Archbishop  assures  me,  that  your 
health  and  spirits  seemed  wonderfully  well,  the  night 
before  he  left  town. 

Your  activity  in  getting  through  literary  business, 
puts  me  to  the  blush.  How  little  have  I  done  since 

VOL.  i.  o 


194 


I  left  Dublin,  and  how  feebly  has  that  little  been  ex¬ 
ecuted  !  We  must  hope  that  things  will  mend ;  and 
in  order  to  bring  this  hope  in  its  way  towards  com¬ 
pletion,  we  must  endeavour  to  have  proper  vicis¬ 
situdes  of  exercise  and  study.  Last  week  I  was 
employed  for  two  days,  in  writing  a  voluminous,  but 
I  fear  prolix  letter,  to  a  brother  clergyman,  on  the 
subject  of  preaching.  It  is  not  yet  finished.  But 
when  it  is,  I  will,  with  your  permission,  enclose  it  to 
you ;  in  the  hope  that  you  will  point  out  some  of  the 
numerous  errors,  which  I  can  hardly  question  it  must 
contain. 

The  publication  which  has  just  appeared  in  Eng¬ 
land,  I  am  very  anxious  to  see ;  and  would  be  highly 
indebted  to  you,  if  you  could  by  any  means  procure 
me  an  early  enjoyment  of  this  pleasure.  If  you  think 
I  could  review  it,  I  would  make  the  attempt  with 
pleasure ;  it  is,  indeed,  just  the  thing  I  could  like  to 
do  for  my  private  gratification  ;  though  with  much 
diffidence  of  producing  any  remarks  fit  for  the  public 
eye.  It  is  very  well  that  you  warned  me  on  the 
subject  of  secrecy ;  for  certain  it  is,  that  I  did  not 
before  understand  there  was  any  such  injunction  on 
your  part,  either  express,  or  implied.  I  need  not 
say,  that  I  shall  now  be  as  close  as  the  grave.  I 
think,  to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  I  did  once  or 
twice  casually  mention  such  a  thing,  with  the  author’s 
name ;  but  certainly,  it  was  not  to  any  one  in  the 
literary  world  ;  or  indeed  to  any  one  that  will  pro¬ 
bably  recollect  the  circumstance. 

The  Archbishop  is  well ;  nor  do  I  recollect  ever 
having  had  a  more  comfortable  conversation  with 
him,  than  the  other  evening.  He  has  some  hopes  of 
a  visit  from  you.  Is  such  a  thing  possible  ?  It  would 
be  good  for  your  health  ;  it  would  be  highly  service- 


195 


able  to  our  worthy  friend  ;  and  I  really  think  it  might 
be  serviceable  in  no  slight  degree,  to  the  cause  of 
religion  in  this  diocese.  The  Archbishop  speaks  most 
candidly,  and  most  wisely,  on  the  subject  of  the  Kil¬ 
kenny  association :  he,  also,  expresses  a  wish,  that  a 
well-regulated  and  modified  clerical  association,  could 
be  formed  in  this  diocese.  It  would  give  me  real 
pleasure,  to  talk  over  the  matter  with  you  and  his 
Grace ;  or  rather,  indeed,  to  hear  your  joint  senti¬ 
ments  upon  it.  Were  you  on  the  spot,  I  soberly  think, 
much  good  might  result.  There  is  a  substratum  of 
seriousness  in  some  few  of  our  clergy.  There  are, 
also,  several  of  the  old  school,  highly  respectable ; 
and  without  much  dogmatical  attachment  to  their 
long  established  modes.  Now,  do  you  not  think,  that 
good  might  be  done  by  an  association,  under  this 
state  of  things  ?  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  like  my 

friend - .  The  more  thoroughly  he  is  known,  the 

more  evidently  it  will  appear,  that  he  has  a  heart 
deeply  impressed  with  religion  of  the  best  kind ;  and 
a  judgment,  naturally  strong,  rendered  much  more 
sound,  by  the  infusion  of  wisdom  from  above.  I 
think  that  man  calculated  for  a  much  wider  sphere 
of  exertion,  than  that  afforded  on  the  rocks  of  Carrick- 
a-Crewe ;  which,  however,  he  fills  very  contentedly ; 
and,  no  doubt,  with  real  usefulness  to  the  poor  people, 
among  whom  he  is  placed. 

Were  there  any  difficulties  in  my  mind,  on  the 
point  of  calvinistic,  or  augustinian  predestination, 
what  you  say  would,  doubtless,  have  great  weight  in 
removing  them :  but  the  truth  is,  I  am  pretty  easy 
on  that  point.  That  which  most  puzzled  me,  were 
the  views  of  justification,  which  I  had  seen  put  for¬ 
ward  ;  and  in  fact,  divines  seem,  somehow  or  other, 
to  have  perplexed  that  doctrine,  by  such  a  multi- 

o  2 


196 


plicity  of  perverse  reasoning,  and  strained  inter¬ 
pretation,  that  it  is  hard  to  see  light  through  their 
darkness. 

One  point  I  am  persuaded  of,  that  the  extreme 
mode  of  viewing  this  matter,  implies  a  manifest  con¬ 
tradiction,  to  many  plain  assertions  of  our  blessed 
Lord  himself.  Some  good  people  have  had  such  a 
horror  of  human  merit,  that  they  cry  out  ‘  Heresy/ 
upon  those,  who  simply  use  the  phrase  in  the  modi¬ 
fied,  and  popular  sense :  which  is  fully  authorized,  by 
numerous  passages  of  the  four  Gospels.  I  purpose, 
when  more  at  leisure,  reading  over  one  or  two  works, 
by  Baxter,  on  this  subject;  but,  just  at  present,  I 
have  no  wish  to  worry  my  mind  with  doctrinal  con¬ 
troversy,  being  in  a  better  frame  for  what  is  practical 
and  moral.  By  the  way,  I  hope  you  will  be  good 
enough  to  bespeak  for  me,  from  London,  c  Nicole/ 
and  John  Smith’s  c  select  discourses.’  Also  to  get 
for  me,  through  the  post  if  possible,  two  copies  of 
Herbert  Marsh’s  little  tract  on  the  Pentateuch.  It 
is  a  very  thin  octavo  pamphlet ;  and  a  friend  of  mine, 
who  is  a  very  hopeful  convalescent  from  infidelity, 
wishes  to  see  it.  He  was  much  struck  with  the 
account  of  it,  in  my  note  on  the  Pentateuch.  This 
person  brings  the  profoundest  physical  arguments, 
in  defence  of  revelation ;  and  appears  most  truly 
anxious  to  arrive  at  full  conviction.  I  must  candidly 
confess  to  you,  that  I  told  the  Archbishop  of  your 
reviewing  Ely  Bates :  is  this  a  breach  of  confidence  ? 
If  it  be  so,  I  am  truly  sorry ;  and  I  can  promise  in¬ 
violable  secrecy  for  the  future.  But  I  did  not,  at  the 
time,  nor  do  I  now,  think,  you  gave  me  any  warning 
on  that  head.  The  nature  of  the  case,  indeed/re¬ 
quires,  that  it  should  be  very  sparingly  mentioned. 


107 

But  I  was  led  to  conceive  the  Archbishop,  an  autho- 
rized  exception. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Sir,  and 

believe  me  ever  your’s, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  26. 


To  the  Rev .  J .  Jebb. 


May  18.  1805.  1 

My  good  Friend, 

I  will  will  put  you  to  the  expense  of  postage,  for  a 
short  letter.  You  were  so  good  as  to  say,  you  would 
send  me  a  letter  you  were  writing,  when  you  had 
completed  it.  I  hope  you  will  not  omit  it.  I  shall 
be  truly  desirous  to  see  it  :  you  can  enclose  to 
William  Taylor. 

I  happen  to  have  a  duplicate  of  the  new  work  : 
you  shall,  therefore,  fall  heir  to  the  superfluous  copy. 
I  hope  to  send  it  early  next  week. 

You  will,  probably,  have  looked  over  the  Arch¬ 
bishop’s  copy,  before  your  own  reaches  you.  I  hope 
it  will  do  good :  but  it  still  needs  revising ;  there 
being  great  inequality  in  its  manner :  yet  it  is  cer¬ 
tainly  a  curious  kind  of  publication,  all  things  con¬ 
sidered.  - - writes,  that  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  says 

he  has  got  more  information  from  it,  on  the  subject 
most  interesting  at  present  to  him,  as  preceptor,  or 
governor,*  or  whatever  it  be,  than  he  ever  received 
in  all  his  reading. 


*  To  the  Princess  Charlotte  of  Wales. 

o  3 


.  Er>. 


198 


As  to  the  review,  it  is  no  secret :  neither  need  it 
be  spoken  of,  except  some  particular  motive  should 
occur.  In  fact,  I  know  not  what  that  review  will 
turn  out ;  and  though,  in  the  mean  time,  I  would  not 
refuse  it  aid  $  yet  I  would  aid  it  quietly,  till  I  know 
better,  what  sort  of  company  I  have  got  into. 

I  am  now  advanced  a  little,  in  an  answer  to  a 
terrible  kind  of  pamphlet,  written  against  the  Bible 
Society  in  London  ;  and  particularly  pointed  at  Lord 
Teignmouth,  to  whom  it  is  addressed  and  the  four 
Bishops  who  are  members,  Durham,  London,  Exeter, 
and  St.  David’s.  It  is  such  an  effusion  of  high 
church  bigotry,  that  I  do  not  dislike  to  have  an  op¬ 
portunity  of  saying  a  little  of  what  I  have  to  say,  on 
that  subject.  With  thanks  for  your  last  letter, 

Always  most  cordially  your’s, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  27. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebh . 

Bellevue,  June  1.  1805. 

My  worthy  Friend, 

I  have  this  morning  forwarded  your  letter  to  Mr* 
Greatliead ;  who,  I  am  sure,  will  be  very  much  gra¬ 
tified  by  it.  There  was  not  a  word,  which  I  could 
have  wished  to  alter. 

I  am  very  much  gratified,  by  what  you  say,  and 
what  you  quote  from  the  Archbishop,  respecting 
the  «  Hints*’  I  certainly  agree  with  you,  in  all  your 
drawbacks.  And  I  lament  some  things,  as  affecting 


199 


the  sense :  but,  altogether,  I  trust  it  will  do  good. 
If  the  author  would  adopt  the  measure  of  a  thorough 
revisal,  previous  to  another  edition,  it  would  be  a 
great  advantage  to  the  work ;  which  certainly  ought 
not  to  retain  any  remediable  imperfection. 

I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  sermon :  its  matter 
delighted  me.  I  read  it  immediately,  and  handed  it 

to  Mrs. - ,  who  was  affected  with  it  in  the  very 

way  my  heart  could  have  wished.  For  the  time  you 
had  to  write  it  in,  nothing  could  be  better;  and  I 
hope  and  trust,  what  it  contains  is  sound  doctrine. 

I  could  wish  to  write  to  the  Archbishop  ;  but  I 
am  very  much  occupied.  I  do  not  mean  as  to  time  ; 
for  that  I  could,  some  way  or  other,  always  command: 
but,  when  I  am  engaged  in  any  thing,  it  occupies  my 
thoughts  so,  that  I  must  put  some  force  on  myself  to 
turn  to  another  subject.  I  told  you,  I  believe,  that  I 
am  shaping  an  answer,  to  a  very  perverse  attack  on 
Lord  Teignmouth,  and  the  Bishops  who  have  taken 
part  in  the  Bible  Society.  I  take  the  author  to  be 
Daubeny. 

Convey  my  kindest  regards  to  the  Archbishop  ; 
whose  gratifying  wish  to  see  me  at  Cashel,  has  as  great 
attractive  force  on  me,  as  it  well  can  have.  And,  if 
all  be  well  after  he  returns  from  his  metropolitical 
tour,  I  almost  think  I  will  pay  him  a  visit :  but  ‘  quam 
multa  inter  labra  et  pocula  cedunt., 

Always  most  truly  your’s, 

Alex.  Knox. 


o  I 


200 


LETTER  XXIX. 

To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 

Cashel,  June  12.  1805.  ' 

My  dear  Sir, 

Your  speedy,  and  kindly  considerate  letter,  just 
received,  is  in  unison  with  every  thing  I  have  expe¬ 
rienced  from  you.  And  I  cannot  refrain  from  an¬ 
swering  it  immediately.  Your  partial  friendship  leads 
you,  unwittingly,  to  over-rate  the  service  I  mighty  be 
of  at  the  asylum.  At  the  same  time,  I  do  feel, 
that  I  could,  probably,  be  more  useful  there*,  than 
in  any  other  situation.  And,  on  this  ground,  nothing 
would  more  effectually  meet  my  wishes,  than  such 
an  establishment.  Nothing,  however,  can,  as  I  con¬ 
ceive,  be  delicately  said  about  the  non-cure,  in  the 
present  stage  of  the  business.  As  the  Archbishop 
seems  to  have  set  his  mind,  on  establishing  two  effi¬ 
cient  men  in  the  cathedral,  in  the  room  of  the  present 
curate ;  and  as  I  do  not  think,  that  either  my  own 
private  wishes,  or  the  prospect  of  resulting  good,  in 
the  wider  sphere  of,  perhaps,  the  first  Dublin  congre¬ 
gation,  should  be  permitted  to  clash  with  this  excel¬ 
lent  man’s  views,  for  the  benefit  of  his  own  diocese. 
Still,  however,  might  it  not  be  proper,  that  some¬ 
thing  should  be  done  forthwith,  before  matters  are 
too  far  gone,  in  Dublin,  or  here,  or  in  both  places  ? 
Now,  my  idea  is  this.  If  you  approve  of  the  arrange- 


*  As  chaplain  to  the  Magdalene  AsylumChapel,  in  Lceson  Street,  Dublin,  .  .  Ed, 


£01 


ftient,  and  if  the  Asylum  can  be  procured,  I  would 
accept  it,  without  any  other  present  provision.  This 
would,  doubtless,  somewhat  abridge  my  income,  and 
mar  my  prospects  of  diocesan  advancement :  but  are 
there  not  considerations  very  superior,  to  any  thing 
of  a  pecuniary  nature  ;  and  might  not  strict  econo¬ 
my,  in  a  college-room,  make  the  Asylum  chaplaincy 
alone,  with  my  own  little  modicum,  adequate  to  my 
support?  Should  you  think  this  scheme  admissible, 
you  might  then,  perhaps,  write  to  the  Archbishop, 
stating  the  circumstances  which,  in  your  judgment, 
make  it  desirable,  that  I  should  remove  to  the  vacant 
appointment  in  Dublin  ;  without  at  all  adverting  to 
any  thing  in  his  disposal. 

The  non-cure  would,  undoubtedly,  be  a  pleasant 
thing;  enabling  me,  both  with  prudence,  and  with 
comfort,  to  remove  into  a  situation,  which,  of  all 
others,  would  make  me  most  happy  ;  because,  I  hope, 
more  useful,  than  I  could  be  elsewhere.  But  then, 
it  should  come  from  himself,  of  his  own  mere  mo¬ 
tion  ;  and,  in  this  manner,  I  could  gratefully  accept 
it,  as  my  ne  plus  ultra ;  and  without  compunction, 
because,  whilst  many  circumstances  may  enable  his 
Grace  to  make  the  proposed  arrangements  in  the 
cathedral,  at  no  distant  date,  .  .  perhaps,  it  might 
never  be  in  his  power  to  secure  me  an  independence ; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  to  place  me  where  I  should  be 
comfortable. 

I  rejoice  at  the  popularity  of  the  ‘  Hints.’  I  did 
not  think  it  possible,  that  they  should  fail  of  making 
a  very  deep  impression  :  neither  did  I  think  it  pro¬ 
bable,  that  the  author  would  long  remain  concealed. 
The  internal  evidence  was  strong  indeed ;  frequently, 
the  same  train  of  thought,  and  sometimes,  the  very 
turn  of  expression,  which  occur  in  the  ‘  Strictures  on 


202 


female  Education.’  Of  course,  as  the  matter  is  now 
public,  the  Review  must  notice  the  author.  Many 
thoughts  have  been  passing  through  my  mind ;  and 
I  hope  to  proceed  with  some  vigour  and  spirit,  when 
an  unpleasant  cold  and  headach  leave  me  at  liberty. 

Have  you  read  an  exceedingly  good  review,  in  the 
Christian  Observer,  of  Burder’s  sermon  on  amuse¬ 
ments,  and  the  answer  to  it?  From  some  internal 
evidence,  from  the  general  view  given  of  this  impor¬ 
tant  subject,  and  even  from  some  modes  of  language 
familiar  to  my  mind,  I  should  suspect  that  it  was  not 
in  print,  that  you  saw  the  review  for  the  first  time. 
The  extracts  from  Lord  Chesterfield,  Baxter,  and 
Leighton,  were  also,  I  guess,  furnished  by  a  person 
known  to  you  and  me. 

Irwin  Whitty  has  been  imbibing  just  such  views  as 
we  could  wish.  He  is  delighted  with  the  review  of 
Burder’s  sermon. 

Your  ever  grateful  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  28. 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehb. 


Dublin,  June  15.  1805. 

Mv  dear  Friend, 

I  thank  you  for  your  confidential  communication, 
which  has  set  some  thoughts  in  motion  in  my  mind. 

If  it  were  practicable,  I  could  wish  you  to  have  the 
non-cure  at  once  ;  and,  having  that,  to  take  an  actual 
cure  in  this  city.  The  cure  of  D - is,  at  this  mo- 


203 


ment,  vacant.  - has  actually  entertained  thoughts 

of  taking  the  cure.  Then,  the  Asylum  would  be  va¬ 
cant;  and,  if  the  possession  of  the  non-cure,  were 
to  give  you  the  means  of  living  where  you  pleased, 
that  would  be  the  place  for  you.  Others,  too  often, 
speculate  on  private,  and  personal  grounds.  Subor¬ 
dinate^,  these  must  not  be  neglected  :  but  I  look 
farther  ;  and  you  are  the  man  to  look  with  me.  The 
Asylum  would  be  the  place,  where,  on  the  best 
grounds,  I  would  rejoice  to  see  you  fixed  :  for  there 
you  would,  with  God’s  blessing,  do  much  good. 

If  the  Archbishop  and  I  were  talking  on  this  sub¬ 
ject,  I  would  tell  him  all  that  is  in  my  heart :  but  I 
think  it  would  be  wrong  in  me  to  write  to  him. 
Perhaps,  however,  there  may  be  time  for  conversation 
on  the  subject ;  as  I  hope  to  be  at  Cashel,  about  the 
time  of  the  Archbishop’s  return  from  his  circuit 

through  the  province.  And  if - should  move,  I 

will  endeavour,  at  all  events,  to  obtain,  through 

Mrs. - ,  that  there  shall  be  a  temporary  provision. 

Dr.  Browne’s  death,  left  room  for  the  appointment 
of  a  third  fellow  to-day.  I  heard  the  examination  in 
morality,  on  Thursday ;  and  it  seemed  agreed,  that 
both  questions,  and  answers,  were  above  what  had 
been  heard  there  for  a  long  time.  The  successful 
men  are  Sadler,  Meredith,  and  Wall.  Graves  goes 
into  morality  con  amore:  and  it  is,  of  all  sciences, 
the  most  important,  .  .  4  The  soul  of  all  the  rest.’ 

Your’s  always  most  faithfully, 

Alex.  Knox* 

Extract  of  a  Letter  from  H.  M. 

‘  Fulham  Palace,  June  3. 

4  I  must  tell  you,  that,  to  my  great  regret,  the  secret 
betrayed  itself;  and,  from  internal  evidence,  the  au- 


204 


thor  was  discovered,  as  soon  as  the  book  was  read. 
I  declined  the  avowal,  however,  as  long  as  it  was 
possible  ;  but  the  suspicion  became  so  strong,  and  so 
genera],  that  it  would  have  led,  not  only  to  affecta¬ 
tion,  but  deceit,  to  persevere  in  silence.  A  curious 
correspondence  has  passed,  between  me  and  the 
Bishop  of  Exeter.  His  candour  and  politeness  to 
the  anonymous  author  (whom  he  naturally  addressed 
by  the  appellation  of  ‘  sir’),  did  him  credit.  He 
presented  the  work,  at  my  request,  to  the  King : 
also  a  copy  to  the  Queen,  and  to  the  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Wales.  He  wrote  me,  that  the  Queen 
alone  had  then  found  time  to  read  it  \  that  she  was 
very  warm  in  her  commendations,  and  as  anxious  as 
himself  to  know  the  writer.  As  he  so  highly  ap¬ 
proved  the  book,  I  thought  it  handsome,  when  the 
secret  could  be  maintained  no  longer,  to  compliment 
him  with  the  first  avowal ;  and  I  am  expecting  a  visit 
from  him,  in  order  to  talk  it  over.  I  believe  the 
book  is  in  the  hands  of  most  persons  of  high  rank  in 
London  ;  and  it  has  had  the  good  fortune  to  please/ 


Extract  of  a  Letter  from  Dr,  W, 

‘  June  4. 

— —  has  just  called  in,  and  told  me  that  he  was 
yesterday  in  company  with  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  : 
who  said,  £  I  have,  at  last,  come  at  the  author  of  the 
Hints.  H.  M.  has  avowed  it  to  me,  and  I  have  had 
a  long  conversation  with  her.’ 


205 


LETTER  XXX. 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq . 

Monday  morning,  0  o’clock,  June  20.  1805. 

My  dear  Sir, 

Last  night  I  received  your  letter,  and  the  very  in¬ 
teresting  communication  it  enclosed  ;  which  I  cannot 
avoid  acknowledging,  though  on  the  point  of  setting 
off  for  Limerick  with  H.  W.  We  hope  to  meet  the 
Archbishop  to-morrow.  Mr.  Butterworth’s  letters  I 
will  very  soon  return. 

As  to  what  you  say  of  myself,  I  most  cordially 
acquiesce  in  by  far  the  greater  part  of  it.  I  should 
be  most  insensible  indeed,  if  I  did  not  feel,  that  a 
kind  over-ruling  Providence  has  been  with  me, 
through  the  course  of  my  past  life ;  and  so  feeling, 
I  thank  God  I  can  wait,  not  only  quietly,  but  with 
perfect  complacence,  for  the  guidance  of  the  same 
good  Providence.  The  best  way,  then,  is  to  let 
things  take  their  course.  There  is  only  one  point,  the 
expediency  of  which  I  question  ;  and  that  is,  speaking 

to - .  Of  his  prudence  I  have  some  doubt :  but, 

besides,  I  have  a  stronger  ground  of  objection ; 
namely,  that  such  a  step  would,  in  some  measure, 
be  a  departure  from  that  entire  simplicity  of  means, 
which  is  so  desirable.  When  the  apparatus  is  complex, 
may  not  failure,  in  some  measure  be  apprehended? 
In  truth,  any  alteration,  in  my  situation  or  prospects, 
which  took  place  through  your  immediate  inter¬ 
ference,  I  should  consider  to  be  in  the  natural  course 
of  things  \  and  would,  therefore,  view  complacently, 


206 


as  a  strictly  providential  event.  Now  this  would  by 
no  means  be  my  feeling,  were  an  alteration,  even 
precisely  similar,  to  arise,  through  the  interference  of 
a  third  person.  I  must  stop,  in  order  to  write  to  my 
brother. 

Your’s  most  affectionately, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  XXXI. 
To  A .  Knox ,  Esq. 


Cashel,  June  22.  1805. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  return  you  Mr.  Butter  worth’s  letter,  with  many 
thanks.  It  is  full  of  good  sense,  and  right  feeling  ; 
and  contains  very  much,  both  of  interesting  informa¬ 
tion,  and  judicious  remarks.  It  is  truly  gratifying  to 
see  an  English  methodist,  so  completely  raised  above 
sectarian  prejudice,  by  the  spirit  and  power  of  reli¬ 
gion.  Essential  service  will,  I  trust,  be  done,  through 
his  quiet  and  wise  exertions,  to  the  interests  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  at  large,  and  of  our  establishment  in  parti¬ 
cular.  I  hope  I  am  not  wrong  in  indulging  the 
reflection,  for  I  cannot  help  indulging  it,  that  you 
are  providentially  employed,  in  sowing  the  seeds  of 
union  betwen  contending  parties,  here,  and  in  Eng¬ 
land.  Mr.  B.  is  evidently  a  pupil  of  your  school ; 
and  a  few  such  pupils,  might,  in  a  few  years,  do 
wonders.  The  high  church  spirit  is  becoming  so 
entirely  unamiable,  that  it  is  tolling  its  own  knell. 
Is  not  this,  therefore,  the  critical  period,  when  good 


2G  7 


and  pious  men,  of  different  opinions,  may,  with  the 
most  rational  prospect  of  success,  unite  together  in 
the  promotion  of  heart-religion  ;  in  healing  the 
wounds  which  have  been  inflicted  on  our  common 
Christianity,  through  the  dissensions  of  its  professors  ? 
Much  caution  and  delicacy,  I  own,  are  necessary  : 
these  Mr.  Butterworth  appears  to  possess,  in  a  degree 
superior  to  what  I  almost  ever  met  with  ;  and  I  hope 
I  shall  be  the  better,  in  these  points,  for  the  perusal 
of  his  letter. 

I  saw  the  Archbishop,  on  Tuesday,  at  Limerick. 
He  is  now  at  Killarney.  He,  perhaps,  never  was 
in  better  health  and  spirits:  business  has  gone  on 
with  spirit  ;  and  without  lassitude  or  fatigue.  Not 
a  word  about  his  plans  for  Cashel,  &c. ;  nor  did  I 
wish  the  subject  to  be  broached.  The  more  I  think 
of  this  matter,  the  more  satisfied  I  feel,  with  letting 
things  rest  precisely  as  they  are  ;  and  waiting  quietly 
that  result,  which,  I  am  sure,  will  be  the  best ;  be¬ 
cause  it  is,  doubtless,  in  the  hands  of  the  All-wise 
disposer. 

I  shall  certainly  mark  what  appears  to  me  amiss. * 
In  the  review,  I  conceive,  nothing  of  that  kind  need 
appear,  except  a  general  notice,  that  there  are  some 
slight  occasional  inaccuracies  :  but,  in  private  com¬ 
munication  to  you,  I  could  even  wish  to  be  hyper¬ 
critical  ;  from  an  earnest  desire,  that  as  few  blemishes 
as  possible  might  remain  in  a  work,  which,  in  very 
many  important  particulars,  I  deem  by  far  the  most 
valuable  we  have  seen,  within  the  last  twenty  years. 
Pray,  do  you  think  it  of  importance,  that  I  should 
complete  my  review  as  nearly  as  possible  within  this 
month,  or  early  in  the  next?  I  ask,  because  two 


*  In  the  c  Hints.’  .  .  Ed. 


208 


severe  wettings,  have  given  me  a  most  incapacitating 
cold ;  and  also  because  I  have  just  received  a  third 

very  pressing  invitation  to  visit - ,  and  attend  a 

meeting  of  the  Ossorian  clergy  ;  [to  decline]  which, 
after  the  refusal  given  to  the  last  two,  I  fear  might 
give  offence.  My  feeling  is  this,  that,  on  personal 
grounds,  I  would  much  rather  stay  at  home,  and  at 
my  work ;  but  that  to  avoid  offence,  and  to  show  a 
kindly  disposition,  towards  a  man  who  has  been  kindly 
attentive  to  me,  I  ought  to  go.  I  will  be  guided  in 
this  point  by  your  advice ;  so  that,  if,  by  return  of 
post,  you  can  write  but  three  lines,  and  tell  me 
whether  the  review  will  be  very  speedily  required,  I 
shall  act  accordingly. 

I  have  had  no  answer  yet  from  my  brother ;  but 
doubt  not  he  will  apply,  with  due  interest,  to  Mr. 
Hans  Blackwood. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  with  the  truest  esteem, 

Your  faithful  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 

P.  S.  The  Bible  Society  have  given  1000  Bibles, 
through  Mr.  S.,  to  the  Ossorian  clergy  (who  procured 
many  subscriptions)  for  distribution.  I  long  to  see  a 
sober  answer,  to  the  very  bigoted  attack  of  Dr.  M, 


209 


LETTER  XXXII. 
To  A .  Knox , 


Cashel,  June  25.  1805. 

My  dear  Sir, 

Along  with  this,  I  send  you  some  very  meagre 
verbal  criticism ;  which  you  may  either  burn,  or 
make  any  use  of  that,  to  you,  seems  fit.  I  shall,  if 
you  choose,  send  you  a  few  similar  remarks,  on  the 
second  volume*  ;  which  I  hope  to  make  in  a  short 
time.  I  hope  that  the  search  for  slight  inaccuracies, 
has  not  withdrawn  my  mind  from  the  admiration  of 
the  very  many  excellencies,  which  the  work  presents. 
Yet  I  fear  much,  that  I  shall  do  very  little  justice  to 
the  latter  in  my  review.  Next  week,  I  hope  to  begin 
writing  to  Mr.  Greathead,  the  visit  to  — —  being 
entirely  out  of  the  question,  from  the  severe  illness  of 
the  Cashel  curate,  whose  extensive  duties  of  course 
devolve  on  me.  You  mistook,  or  I  perhaps,  imper¬ 
fectly  expressed  my  meaning,  as  to  visiting - .  I  did 

not  question  the  propriety  of  occasionally  mixing  with 

- and  his  friends ;  but  merely  doubted,  whether 

I  could  fairly  suffer  such  an  interruption  in  my  present 
business.  On  this  point,  I  am  not  yet  altogether 
satisfied.  You,  therefore,  would  very  much  gratify 
and  oblige  me,  by  letting  me  know  at  what  time 
I  should  have  my  review  completed.  If  you  write 
to  Mr.  Greathead,  and  think  it  fit,  you  might,  per¬ 
haps,  mention,  that  indisposition,  and  the  accession 
of  unforeseen  business,  have  necessarily  caused  some 

*  Of  the  ‘  Hints.’ 

VOL.  I.  P 


210 


delay ;  but  that  I  shall  make  every  effort  in  my 
power,  to  furnish  my  remarks  speedily. 

A  great  part  of  to-morrow,  must  be  devoted  to 
preparing  a  sermon  for  the  cathedral  on  Sunday ;  as 
the  little  discourses  addressed  to  my  few  rustics, 
would  not  suit  a  Cashel  audience.  I  trust  you  hold 
to  your  resolution  of  coming  among  us  here. 

Believe  me, 

Your  grateful  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  29. 

To  the  j Rev.  J .  Jebb . 


July  8.  1805. 

My  worthy  Friend, 

I  write  just  a  line  to  apologize  for  my  silence  ;  and 
to  say,  that,  my  review  having  appeared  in  this  last 
number,  I  wish  you  to  be  as  expeditious  as  you  can  ; 
it  being  my  conclusion,  from  their  speedy  publica¬ 
tion  of  mine,  that  yours  will  be  made  use  of  as 
rapidly;  and,  when  they  are  thus  disposed,  it  is  a 
reason  for  the  disposition  being  met  as  much  as 
possible. 

Last  week  was  a  week  of  unusual  movement  with 
me.  I  dined  abroad  twice :  with  Mr.  Dugdale  * 
on  Thursday,  and  Dr.  Graves  on  Friday.  The 
former  a  methodist,  the  latter  a  clerical,  dinner; 
and  drank  tea  out  twice,  Monday  with  - , 


*  An  eminent  Dublin  bookseller ;  and  an  attached  friend  and  follower  of 
the  venerable  John  Wesley.  .  .  Ed. 


211 


and  Saturday  at  - .  I  had  reasons  propulsory, 

for  every  one  of  them  ;  and  reasons  attractive,  for 
three  out  of  the  four.  — — ' ’s  party  was  matter  of 
propriety:  the  rest,  both  propriety  and  inclination. 
Indeed,  the  last  was  rather  reluctantly  acceded  to ; 
but  I  was  a  great  gainer,  meeting  there  a  sister-in- 
law  of  H.  H.,  A.  H.’s  wife ;  who  won  my  heart 
wonderfully  by  her  great  good  sense,  and,  I  do 
think,  piety  of  a  very  deep  kind.  It  was  to  meet 
her  I  was  asked ;  and  I  did  not  regret  having  yielded 
to  their  wish. 

4 

Dr.  Hales’s  second  anti-methodistic  pamphlet  has 
just  appeared  ;  and  a  very  strange  thing  it  is.  It  has 
several  sensible,  and  candid,  and  ingenious  remarks : 
but  his  eagerness  to  refute  that  best  of  all  methodistic 
tenets,  Christian  perfection,  leads  him  into  strange 
modes  of  interpreting  scripture.  People  ought  never 
to  engage  in  religious,  or  any  controversy,  except 
they  resolve,  and  are  able  to  keep  the  resolution, 
that  they  will  quit  their  ground,  as  soon  as  it  shall  be 
proved  untenable.  If  Dr.  H.  were  of  this  disposition, 
he  would  not  labour  to  misconstrue  scripture  as  he 
is  doing :  and  the  more  is  the  pity,  for  he  is  a  good- 
minded  man,  and  a  sincerely  religious  man,  in  his  way. 

I  am,  just  now,  waiting  for  a  letter  from  Dr.  W. 
after  he  has  talked  to  the  Archbishop,  to  fix  my  time 
of  movement  towards  you  :  for  I  do  not  choose  to 
fix  a  time,  until  I  know  what  time  will  best  answer 
the  Archbishop. 

Yours  always, 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

Alex.  Knox. 

P.  S.  I  had  nearly  forgot  to  acknowledge  the  re¬ 
ceipt  of  the  criticisms  \  which  I  dare  say  are  very 

p  2 


212 


just :  but,  from  various  causes,  I  have  not  been 
able  to  go  through  them.  I  will  transmit  them, 
when  a  proper  opportunity  occurs,  with  their  history. 


LETTER  XXXIII. 

Cashel,  July  10.  1805. 

A  train  of  ideas  has  been  this  evening  suggested 
to  my  mind,  which  I  know  not  whether  it  is  worth 
while  to  preserve,  and  which  may  very  possibly  be 
never  shewn  to  any  person  #  ;  yet  I  cannot  resist  the 
inclination  I  feel,  to  commit  those  fugitive  sentiments 
to  paper. 

After  very  close  examination  of  my  own  mind, 
not  merely  under  the  impulse  of  strong  temporary 
feeling,  but  with  much  coolness  and  deliberation, 
during  the  course  of  many  months,  I  do  not  think 
that  a  permanent  settlement  in  this  country,  would 
conduce,  either  to  my  usefulness,  or  my  comfort. 
That  this  is  not  the  result  of  mental  unfixedness, 
I  trust  I  may  assume  from  the  fact,  that,  during 
six  years,  I  have  been  steadily,  and  on  the  whole 
not  unactively,  employed,  in  actual  professional  duty  : 
that  it  is  not  the  offspring  of  impatience  and  dis¬ 
content,  I  hope  I  shall  be  enabled  to  prove,  at  least 
to  my  own  satisfaction,  by  waiting,  quietly  and 
composedly,  for  the  providential  guidance  of  Him, 
whose  gracious  superintendence  I  have  experienced 
through  the  whole  course  of  my  life ;  which  I 

*  Though  not  addressed  to  Mr.  Knox,  this  document  was  found  among  the 
Bishop’s  letters  to  his  friend.  .  ,  Ed. 


213 


gratefully  acknowledge  as  a  blessing,  far  beyond 
any  thing  this  world  can  give.  My  determination 
is,  to  make  no  move;  nor  to  throw  out  any,  the 
slightest  suggestion,  through  any  other  channel, 
than  what  I  can  fairly  deem  within  the  natural 
course  of  God’s  providence ;  and  it  is  my  earnest 
prayer,  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  rest  satisfied  and 
happy;  and  to  employ  myself  not  unusefully,  in 
whatever  sphere  may  be  providentially  assigned  me. 

I  have,  however,  very  frequently  considered  the 
kind  of  duty,  which  would  be  necessarily  implied, 
by  almost  any  permanent  situation  in  this  diocese : 
and  the  more  I  have  reflected,  the  more  has  my 
understanding  been  convinced,  that,  for  such  duty, 
I  am  very  ill  qualified.  My  habits,  my  feelings,  my 
activities,  are  all  rather  of  the  academic,  than  of 
the  parochial  kind.  Any  little  good  that  I  could 
professionally  do,  would  be  rather  in  the  way  of 
public  address,  or  lecturing,  or  catechetical  instruc¬ 
tion,  than  of  personal  intercourse,  domiciliary  visits, 
or  similar  duties,  which  come  so  constantly  within 
the  ordinary  sphere  of  a  country  clergyman’s  duty. 
So  much,  indeed,  am  I  convinced  of  my  deficiency 
in  these  particulars,  that  I  much  question,  whether 
any  arrangement  that  might  place  me  in  an  extensive 
country  parish,  would  not  be  positive  injury  to  the 
diocese,  as  well  as  a  source  of  uneasiness  to  myself. 

With  these  impressions,  1  own  my  frequent  wishes, 
that  I  might  be  providentially  placed  in  Dublin  ; 
wishes  the  more  earnest,  though  I  trust  not  anxious, 
because  I  humbly  hope  that  there  I  might  be  of 
some  service.  There  is  a  particular  line  of  preach¬ 
ing,  not  pursued  in  any  of  the  Dublin  pulpits,  which 
I  cannot  help  believing  would  be  highly  beneficial. 
I  mean,  the  putting  forward  of  experimental  religion 

p  3 


£M 


in  such  a  way,  as  not  to  alarm,  and  even  in  some 
measure  to  attract,  the  higher  classes  of  society. 
The  views  to  which,  I  trust,  I  am  in  progress, 
through  the  Divine  assistance  and  blessing  on  my 
friend’s  instructions,  and  my  own  slight  exertions, 
these  views,  I  hope,  I  may  be  enabled,  in  some 
measure,  thus  to  put  forward.  How  imperfectly, 
and  with  what  inferior  talent,  I  am  well  aware.  Yet 
still,  even  a  weak  instrument,  may  be  made  use  of 
in  promoting  a  great  cause :  did  I  see  any  reasonable 
prospect,  that  the  very  superior  abilities  of  many 
well  known  to  me,  or  of  any  one  of  those  many, 
would  be  employed  in  this  particular  line  of  preach¬ 
ing,  I  should  cheerfully  retire  to  that  background, 
for  which  my  knowledge  and  powers  are,  perhaps, 
best  calculated :  but  that  prospect  not  appearing, 
even  in  the  remote  perspective,  I  should  embrace 
with  pleasure  the  opportunity  of  doing  my  best,  as 
a  locum  tenens,  till  others,  better  qualified,  might 
render  my  slight  services  unnecessary. 

These,  I  believe,  are  my  primary  motives  for 
wishing,  that  my  lot  may  not  be  cast  in  this  country : 
that  there  are  subordinate  objects,  however,  I  will 
not  deny.  Such  are,  opportunities  of  study;  mix¬ 
ture  with  those,  whose  pursuits  are  similar  to  my 
own ;  the  advice  and  assistance  of  those,  who  are 
better  and  wiser  than  myself ;  and,  if  possible,  a 
residence  in  the  college,  to  which  I  have  looked 
back  with  a  sort  of  tender  regret,  ever  since  I  left  it 

in  1799. 

Now,  entertaining  as  I  do  such  feelings,  I  believe 
it  would  be  but  candid  and  ingenuous  to  disclose 
them  to  the  Archbishop  of  Cashel.  His  Grace  is, 
probably,  forming  arrangements  in  his  mind,  for 
this  diocese.  I  have  some  reason  to  believe  that  he 


215 


may  look  to  me  in  some  of  his  schemes  :  would  it 
not,  therefore,  be  right  that,  by  a  sincere  avowal  of 
my  sentiments,  I  should  anticipate  the  possible  dis¬ 
appointment,  which  might  hereafter  arise,  by  my 
declining,  or  inadequately  discharging,  the  duties  of 
some  situation,  to  which,  in  his  kindness,  he  might 
call  me  ? 

There  is  yet  another  consideration,  which  though 
more  apparently  of  a  worldly  nature,  is  not  to  be 
lost  sight  of.  In  order  to  remove  to  Dublin,  I 
should  have  some  decent  independence ;  some  pro¬ 
fessional  situation  which,  without  implying  any  duty, 
would  afford  some  little  income  ;  and  thus  enable  me 
to  take  an  actual  cure,  or  rather,  preachership,  in 
Dublin.  This,  I  conceive,  would  be  a  sine  qua 
non,  on  higher  grounds  than  those  of  personal  com¬ 
fort.  To  go  to  Dublin  on  a  mere  curacy,  relinquish¬ 
ing  my  present  prospects,  would  bear  an  appearance 
of  quixotism,  which  I  could  not  approve  ;  and  might 
even  be  attributed  to  an  arrogant  presumption  that 
I  could  fight  my  own  way,  and  rise  to  notice  and 
patronage  by  my  own  merit.  Such  an  imputation 
could  not  fairly  arise,  if  I  had  a  clerical  income, 
though  it  were  but  a  small  one.  And  I  can  say  with 
truth,  that  a  small  income,  in  Dublin,  would  be  to 
me  far  more  desirable,  than  a  large  one  in  the 
country.  Now  a  frank  disclosure  to  the  Archbishop, 
might  possibly  so  divert  the  channel  of  his  favour, 
that,  instead  of  calling  me  to  an  active  situation  in 
his  diocese,  he  might,  at  a  future  day,  give  me  a 
sinecure,  which  would  permit  my  residence  in  town. 
His  mind,  I  know,  is  sufficiently  enlarged,  to  look 
beyond  mere  local  arrangement;  and  his  kindness 
is  so  considerate,  as  to  consult  the  feelings  of  those 
whom  he  wishes  to  serve.  However,  it  is,  after  all, 

p  4 


216 


to  be  considered,  how  far  it  would  be  delicate  to 
look  for  a  preferment  through  his  Grace,  which 
would  take  me  from  his  immediate  inspection.  I 
only  trust,  that  not  only  my  respect  and  gratitude, 
but,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  my  regard  for  him 
is  too  great,  to  permit  even  that  I  should  hint  any 
thing,  which  would  hurt  his  feelings,  or  in  the  least 
degree  thwart  his  wishes :  and  this  I  can  safely  say, 
that  a  removal  from  his  diocese  could  never  be  looked 
at  with  complacency  by  me,  if  it  implied  a  cessation 
of  that  intercourse  and  connection,  which,  on  his 
part,  have  been  attended  with  the  most  unmixed 
kindness,  and  on  mine,  have  been  a  source,  both 
of  the  purest  gratification,  and  the  most  solid  ad¬ 
vantage. 


LETTER  30. 

Nov.  12.  1805. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

#  #  #  #  #  #  # 

*  #  #  #  #  #  # 

- spoke  of  writing  to  you.  If  he  has,  he  has 

probably  said  for  himself,  the  substance  of  what  I 
could  say  for  him.  But  this  I  must  say,  that  he  has, 
since  you  parted  from  us,  given  me  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure.  I  am  pretty  sure  his  mind  is  untram¬ 
melled  ;  but,  possibly,  some  clogs  still  hang  upon  his 
habits.  His  connections  with  the  world  are  strong*, 
complicated,  and  tender;  and  he  does  not  yet  see, 
how  he  can  reconcile  that  strict  course  which  I  plead 
for,  with  the  duties  which  he  conceives  those  con- 


217 


nections  bind  upon  him.  This,  I  soberly  think,  is 
all  that  now  remains ;  and  I  trust  this  last  entangle¬ 
ment  will  be  broke  through  like  the  others  ;  for, 
were  it  not  to  be  broken  through,  I  should  seriously 
fear  that  all  the  rest  would  go  for  nought. 

It  is  my  conviction  that,  where  it  pleases  God  to 
give  a  call  to  any  mind,  to  rise  into  the  higher  regions 
of  religion,  .  .  a  disposition  to  hover  in  mid  air,  is  one 
of  the  most  dangerous  that  can  take  possession  of  the 
soul.  In  this  case,  nothing  is  little  :  the  thing  most 
trivial  in  itself j  becomes  momentously  pernicious,  if 
it  ties  to  earth  that  spirit,  which  God  requires  to  soar 
towards  himself.  I  doubt  whether  the  story  of  the 
unfortunate  king  Saul,  was  not  intended  to  illustrate 
to  us  this  very  case.  I.  trust,  however,  that  there  is 
not  the  smallest  danger  of  any  such  draw-back  in  our 
most  interesting  friend. 

On  Saturday  we  went  to  B - -  ;  from  whence 

we  returned  yesterday.  There,  he  acquitted  himself 
well ;  taking  a  decided  part  in  conversation ;  and 

delighting  Mrs.  L - ,  who  is  much  struck  with  the 

universality  of  the  change  which  she  sees  in  him. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  company  there ;  among 

the  rest,  Lady  K- - .  Our  talk,  however,  was  not 

spoiled.  We  were,  on  the  whole,  very  well  satisfied 
with  our  visit. 

I  found  here,  on  my  arrival  from  N.  Boss,  a  letter 
of  five  sheets  from  Mr.  Greathead ;  in  which  there 
was  much  substantial  agreement,  but  a  good  deal  of 
verbal  and  circumstantial  dissonance.  I  dispatched 
one  of  six  sheets  to  him  this  day ;  in  which  I  have 
sought  to  show  him,  that  the  differences  he  appre¬ 
hended  were  in  words  chiefly.  I  now  mean  to  enter 
on  finishing  the  review  ;  which  has  advanced  little, 
since  I  left  Ross.  Mr.  Greathead  wishes  to  make  it 


218 


the  first  article,  in  the  first  number  of  the  new  year ; 
in  which,  though  of  most  entire  unconcern  to  me, 
yet  it  shall  be  my  wish  and  endeavour  to  gratify  him. 

I  must  now  say  no  more,  lest  I  should  be  too  late 
for  the  post  of  this  evening.  I  will  only  add,  that  I 
am  always,  most  cordially  yours, 

A.  K. 

P.  S.  Do  you  not  think  that  Foster,  in  the  first 
article  of  the  Eclec.  for  Nov.,  is,  in  prose,  a  match 
for  Shee,  in  verse  ?  What  can  be  bolder,  or  more 
just,  than  that  demonstration  of  the  absurdity  of 
atheism  ?  Tell  me,  also,  do  not  you  think  those  two 
last  numbers  improved,  and  on  the  whole  very  re¬ 
spectable  ;  particularly,  the  beginning  of  the  above- 
quoted  article?  I  mean,  the  introductory  remarks? 
Surely,  the  temper  is  wonderfully  good ;  and,  con¬ 
sidering  they  are  dissenters,  wonderfully  liberal  and 
catholic. 


LETTER  XXXIV. 


Cashel,  Nov.  21.  1805. 

My  dear  Mr.  Knox, 

You  have,  indeed,  every  reason  to  look  to  me  for 
some  account  of  myself,  since  my  return  home. 
Somewhat  of  bodily  and  nervous  ailment,  however, 
has  prevented  my  writing  to  you  ;  because  it  made 
me  feel  I  could  not  write  as  I  wished.  Thank  God, 
my  spirits  are  now  very  good ;  and  I  look  forward 
to  amendment,  from  steady  exercise.  I  mount  my 


219 


horse,  at  least  five  days  in  the  week  ;  and  am  but 
just  returned  from  Mr. - —’s,  where  I  dined  yes¬ 

terday  in  company  with  the  Archbishop  and  Miss 
— - — :  his  Grace  has  been  on  a  tour  of  confirm¬ 
ation.  We  met  there,  Mrs.  — - ,  who  appears  to 

me  to  possess  much  talent ;  and  what  is  better,  a 
desire  to  be  good.  She  speaks  highly  of c  the  Hints;’ 
and  says  Mrs.  More  is  an  ornament  to  her  sex,  and  to 
human  nature. 

Your  account  of  my  excellent  friend  — — -  delights 
me.  I  am  in  daily  expectation  of  hearing  from  him  ; 
and  were  I  sure  when  a  letter  would  reach  him,  I 
should  wish  to  hasten  his  communication  of  his  pre¬ 
sent  views.  Such  a  man,  I  am  convinced,  will  soon 
be  circumstantially,  as  well  as  mentally,  unclogged. 
I  cannot  but  regard  him  as  an  instrument  fitted  by 
Divine  Providence,  for  the  production  of  most  ex¬ 
tensive  good  :  and,  in  this  view  of  the  subject,  per¬ 
haps  just  so  much  connection  with,  and  estimation  in 
the  world,  as  have  obtained  in  his  case,  may  have 
their  use,  when  he  is  providentially  freed  from  all 
entanglements.  He  may  now  be  as  deeply  spiritual 
as  he  will,  without  incurring  the  charge  of  fanaticism. 

Our  admirable  Archbishop  delights  and  gratifies 
me  more  and  more.  Confident  I  am,  that,  when 
you  meet  in  Dublin,  you  will  find  no  degree  of 
alteration  for  the  worse,  whatever  there  may  be  for 
the  better.  The  very  views  you  could  wish  have 
taken  deep  root,  and  are  producing  a  most  abundant 
harvest.  I  know  not  whether  he  has  written  to  you. 
He  expressed,  at  the  same  time,  a  wish  to  preach 
the  thanksgiving  sermon,  and  a  fear  that  he  could 
not  do  so.  All  his  old  sermons,  he  is  determined  to 
burn  ;  and  business  so  presses,  that  he  is  apprehensive 
that  he  could  not  prepare  a  suitable  discourse  on  this 


occasion.  He  spoke  of  writing  to  you  for  some 
hints  on  the  subject ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  desired 
me  to  prepare.  Now,  if  his  Grace  does  not  wish 
for  your  hints,  they  would  be  most  acceptable  to 
me.  I  do  not  mean  any  thing  at  length,  or  in 
detail ;  but  a  suggestion  of  text,  topics,  and  especi¬ 
ally  how  I  ought  to  manage  Lord  Nelson.  Whether 
any  mention,  and  how  ;  for  this  I  conceive  to  be 
very  delicate  ground,  either  in  the  alternative  of 
mentioning,  or  of  omitting  him.  My  view  of  the 
subject  would  lead  me,  and  I  imagine  you  will  agree 
with  me,  to  be  rather  practical  than  declamatory. 
By  the  way,  do  you  not  think  the  1st  collect,  in  £the 
form  of  prayer,  &c.,’  and  that  after  the  general  thanks¬ 
giving,  admirable?  I  do  not  recollect  to  have  met,  on 
any  former  occasion,  an  equal  expression  of  humility, 
and  pious  feeling. 

I  preached  a  sermon  on  the  religious  instruction 
of  youth,  and  two  on  the  Lord’s  prayer,  since  I  left 
Ross.  The  former  was  tolerable,  and  I  hope  had 
some  effect.  The  second,  on  the  Lord’s  prayer,  was 
also  I  trust  calculated  to  convey  some  useful  hints. 
Still,  however,  I  feel  myself  awkward  in  composing. 
Do  you  not  think  it  would  be  a  good  rule,  as  much 
as  possible,  to  talk  as  if  we  were  writing,  and  to  write 
as  if  we  were  talking  ?  I  am  disposed  to  believe  that 
the  former  practice,  would  help  us  very  much  in 
the  latter.  I  mean,  that  the  habit  of  looking  for 
the  best,  and  aptest  words,  in  common  conversation, 
would  give  us  ready  fluency,  when  we  come  to 
put  our  thoughts  on  paper :  always  provided  we 
meditate  in  private,  at  least  as  much  as  we  talk  in 
society.  Dr.  Johnson  says,  that  reading  makes  a 
full  man  :  but  how  many  great  readers  are  miserably 
empty ;  and  how  few  do  we  find,  unfurnished  with 


22  L 


ideas,  that  are  in  the  habit  of  sober  collectedness  of 
mind,  and  frequent  meditation  on  important  topics  ? 
The  truth  is,  we  do  not  so  much  want  new  mate¬ 
rials,  as  skill  and  readiness  in  analyzing,  combining, 
and  new  modifying  the  materials,  that  we  are  already 
in  possession  of.  Were  we  to  accustom  ourselves 
more  to  such  exercises,  I  am  convinced  that  the 
results  would  be  happily  conspicuous,  in  a  copious¬ 
ness  and  fertility,  both  of  just  thoughts,  and  appo¬ 
site  illustrations,  to  which  they  are  entire  strangers, 
who  pace  round  in  the  same  dull  track,  which  thou¬ 
sands  have  paced  before  them. 

I  am  so  pleased  with  Foster’s  Essays,  that  I  have 
commissioned  a  friend  to  buy  them  for  me.  I  cor¬ 
dially  coincide  with  the  criticism  of  the  E.  R.,  both 
as  to  its  excellencies  and  defects ;  I  do  indeed  see 
with  pleasure,  an  improvement  in  that  publication. 
I  shall  now  recommend  it  where  I  can,  as  its  merits 
will  do  full  justice  to  my  recommendation. 

I  must  now  break  off.  A  quarter  of  a  sheet  of 
hints  for  a  thanksgiving  sermon,  if  sent  speedily,  will 
be  most  useful.  A  confirmation,  and  ordination  ser¬ 
mon,  must  very  shortly  be  prepared ;  and  with  all 
these  in  view,  I  have  got  the  Archbishop’s  approba¬ 
tion  to  Mr. - -’s  preaching  next  Sunday. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  most  obliged  and  affectionate 

Friend  and  servant, 

John  Jebb. 


Nov.  25.  1805. 


222 


LETTER  31. 

To  the  Rev.  J .  Jehh . 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  received  great  satisfaction  from  your  letter  of  the 
21st :  but  not  more  than  I  was  looking  for. 

As  to  the  sermon,  it  strikes  me  that  good  use 
might  be  made  of  Isaiah,  xxxvii.  33d  and  35th  verses : 
4  Thus  saith  the  Lord  concerning  the  king  of 
Assyria,  He  shall  not  come  into  this  city,  nor  shoot 
an  arrow  there ;  nor  come  against  it  with  shields  ; 
nor  cast  a  bank  against  it :  for  I  will  defend  this 
city,  for  mine  own  sake,  and  for  my  servant  David’s 
sake.’ 

You  may  begin  with  stating  the  outline  of  the  his¬ 
toric  fact;  in  which  you  will  find  no  difficulty  in 
making  out  a  parallel,  between  Sennacherib  and 
Buonaparte.  The  address  of  Rabshakeh  is  in  the 
truest  French  spirit ;  and  the  peculiar  feeling  seems 
to  be  that  of  haughty  indignation,  that  so  small  a 
country  should  stand  out  against  a  conqueror,  who 
had  subjugated  so  many  powerful  nations.  This 
success  had  evidently  made  him  think  that  the  world 
was  his  own ;  and  he  conceived,  that  his  very  pre¬ 
sence  was  enough  to  work  wonders  :  4  With  the  sole 
of  my  feet/  says  he,  4  have  I  dried  up  the  rivers  of  the 
besieged  places/ 

Briefly,  then,  go  over  the  wonderful  way,  in  which 
God  was  pleased  to  frustrate. 

That  the  tyrant  of  France  has  an  indignation 
against  Britain,  of  not  wholly  a  dissimilar  kind,  will 


not  be  disputed  :  that,  in  the  pride  of  his  heart,  he 
contrasts  the  present  enormous  extent  of  his  acquisi¬ 
tions,  with  the  comparatively  narrow  limits  of  Britain, 
we  cannot  doubt ;  and  he  must  be  the  more  enraged, 
because  an  island  which  looks  so  small  on  a  map  of 
the  world,  should  work  him  such  annoyance. 

In  many  signal  instances,  has  this,  hitherto,  oc¬ 
curred  ;  but  scarcely  in  any  more  remarkable,  than 
in  the  instance  which  leads  to  the  present  solemnity. 
In  all  the  exultation  of  a  victory,  he  that  day  said, 
that  what  he  wanted  was,  not  conquest  on  land,  but 
power  on  sea :  in  other  words,  he  wanted  to  be  free, 
from  the  only  adequate  restraint  on  his  overbearing 
ambition.  Yet,  on  that  very  day,  it  pleased  God  to 
let  him  see,  that  he  was  as  far  from  that  desired 
object  as  ever :  that  what  he  so  much  longed  for,  was 
the  very  thing  which  he  could  not  accomplish.  He 
was  made  to  see,  at  least  enough  took  place  to  show 
him,  that  God,  who  had  given  to  Great  Britain  its 
peculiar  ascendancy  on  the  ocean,  was  determined 
still  to  preserve  to  it  that  superiority,  in  spite  of  all 
his  efforts  to  obtain  it  for  himself. 

Such,  we  have  reason  most  deeply  to  thank  God, 
is  the  present  aspect ;  and,  therefore,  though  our  de¬ 
liverance  is  neither  so  extraordinary,  nor  so  decisive, 
as  that  of  Jerusalem ;  yet,  as  we  in  reason  are  bound 
to  ascribe  our  deliverance  to  the  same  hand,  so,  con¬ 
sidering  the  menaces  which,  for  successive  years,  we 
have  been  witnessing,  we  have  every  ground  for 
entertaining  the  same  feelings  of  gratitude,  which  the 
people  of  Jerusalem  must  have  felt  on  that  great  oc¬ 
casion. 

But  the  truest  method  of  being  grateful,  is  to  learn 
those  lessons,  which,  we  may  reasonably  believe,  are 
intended  to  be  impressed  on  us.  The  prophet  says, 


224 


concerning  the  judicial  visitations  of  Providence, 
e  The  Lord’s  voice,  &c.’  Micah  vi.  9. :  but,  is  there 
not  a  voice,  too,  in  interferences  of  mercy  ?  We 
learn  from  the  Gospel,  that  there  is  a  most  tremen¬ 
dous  voice  :  what  our  Lord  says  to  the  cities  wherein 
most  of  his  mighty  works  were  done,  St.  Matth.  xi.  20., 
because  they  repented  not,  is  surely  most  applicable 
to  us,  if,  after  all  the  distinguishing  favour  we  have 
received,  we  refuse  to  own  that  hand  of  our  God, 
which  has  been  good  upon  us <  Neh.  ii.  18. 

But,  if  we  wish  to  see  our  circumstances  in  the 
true  light,  we  must  examine  by  the  lamp  of  God’s 
word.  When  the  Psalmist  was  in  a  state  of  depres¬ 
sion,  k'  his  feet  had  well  nigh  gone ,  his  steps  had 
well  nigh  slipt ;  .  .  until  he  went  into  the  sanctuary  of 
God.’  And,  too  probably,  we  may  be  in  danger  of 
presumptuous  elatedness,  if  we  do  not  follow  his  ex¬ 
ample.  It  has  been  wisely  observed,  that,  while  the 
New  Testament  teaches  us  the  methods  of  God’s 
grace,  the  Old  Testament  teaches  us  the  ways  of  his 
providence.  And  the  thought  is  most  reasonable  ; 
for,  in  that  earlier  dispensation,  God  was  dealing,  not 
so  much  with  individuals,  as  with  a  nation.  Hence, 
therefore,  all  other  nations  are  to  collect  their  duties, 
and  their  doctrines,  until  the  consummation  of  all 
things. 

The  passage,  in  particular,  which  has  been  read, 
considered  in  connection  with  after  events,  conveys 
much  striking,  because  most  suitable  instruction. 

Jerusalem  was  most  signally  delivered  :  but  why  ? 

‘  for  my  own  sake,’  says  God,  ‘  and  for  my  servant 
David’s  sake.’ 

1.  This  implies  the  deliverance  was  utterly  unde¬ 
served  ;  and,  therefore,  to  be  rejoiced  in  with  trem¬ 
bling.  He  would  do  it  for  his  own  sake.  They 


were  unworthy  of  such  a  mercy  :  but  God  was  a 
gracious  God ;  passing  by  iniquity,  transgression, 
and  sin :  because  he  was  such,  they  were  delivered. 

2.  But  it  implies,  farther,  that  he  would  do  it,  be¬ 
cause  the  plan  of  his  providence  required  it.  The 
Jews  were  a  nation  set  apart,  to  serve  the  most  ex¬ 
tended  purposes  of  divine  benevolence.  Out  of 
them  was  to  come  that  true  seed  of  David,  the  holy 
leaven,  that  was  to  leaven  the  whole  earth.  Let  their 
unworthiness,  therefore,  be  ever  so  great,  God’s 
glorious  designs  were  not  to  be  frustrated.  The  ten 
tribes  had,  already,  been  scattered  over  many  coun¬ 
tries;  but  the  remnant  of  Judah  must  not  share 
their  doom  :  not  because  it  was  more  innocent ;  but 
because  the  truth  of  God,  and  the  religious  interests 
of  mankind,  were  so  deeply  connected  with  its  pre¬ 
servation. 

3.  This  is  particularly  intimated  in  the  expression, 
‘for  my  servant  David’s  sake’  :  for  to  David  had  the 
promise  been  made,  that  his  seed  should  inherit  an 
eternal  kingdom  ;  and,  therefore,  what  casualty 
threatened  the  stability  of  that  decree,  must  be 
warded  off:  for  the  words  seem  also  to  imply,  that 
God’s  love  to  David,  (who,  whatever  faults  he  had 
been  guilty  of,  had  retained,  through  all,  an  un¬ 
deviating  resolution  to  have  no  other  God  but  the 
God  of  Israel,)  was  the  source  of  the  entailed  bless¬ 
ing  being  continued  to  his  people  ;  and  chiefly 
operated  in  preventing  that  total  rejection  of  them 
from  God’s  holy  covenant,  to  which,  had  their  national 
conduct  only  been  considered,  they  might  have  been 
justly  liable. 

That  the  first  of  these  observations  applies  most 
strictly  to  us,  I  need  not  spend  words  to  prove  :  that 
God  has  aided  us,  not  because  we  have  been  deserv- 

VOL.  I.  Q 


226 


ing,  but  because  he  is  gracious  and  full  of  compas¬ 
sion,  every  one  of  us  will  allow.  In  every  sense  may 
we,  indeed,  say,  £  Not  unto  us,  not  unto  us,  but  to 
thy  name  be  the  praise.’ 

But  it  may  be  asked,  how  do  the  other  meanings 
of  those  words  belong  to  us  ?  They  teach  us,  that 
most  awful  and  interesting  truth,  that,  as  then,  so 
now,  God  has  reasons  for  his  conduct,  far  beyond 
the  common  thoughts  of  man  ;  that  all  events,  on 
this  earth,  are  regulated  and  directed,  in  subservience 
to  the  interests  of  that  spiritual,  and  invisible  king¬ 
dom  of  the  Messiah,  which  the  carnal  eye  recognizeth 
not ;  which,  like  its  divine  Founder,  when  he  came 
at  the  first  to  establish  it,  ‘  hath  no  form  or  comeli¬ 
ness,’  to  them  who  love  the  world,  and  the  things  of 
the  world  :  but  which,  notwithstanding,  has  existed 
in  the  hearts  of  all  genuine  Christians  ;  will  at  length, 
the  word  of  prophecy  assures  us,  subdue  all  hearts  ; 
and  is,  indeed,  that,  for  the  sake  of  which,  the  world 
continues  ;  and  to  which,  kings  and  emperors,  in 
their  successive  generations,  are  nothing  more  than 
subordinate,  though,  too  often,  unconscious  servants. 
Dan.  ii.  44.,  vii.  13,  14. 

Let  us  not,  then,  deceive  ourselves,  by  calculations 
of  human  force  ;  or  by  precedents  drawn  from  com¬ 
mon  history;  or  by  suppositions,  that  the  little  concerns 
of  states  and  kingdoms,  as  they  regard,  merely,  the 
present  life,  are  any  thing  in  the  view  of  him,  before 
whom  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  are  as  grasshoppers, 
and  the  nations  as  a  drop  of  the  ocean,  or  as  the  small 
dust  of  the  balance.  It  is  on  far  other  principles, 
and  for  far  other  purposes,  that  the  great  events  on 
this  globe  are  directed  and  overruled.  Little  as  the 
religion  of  the  Scripture  is  thought  of  amongst  men, 
this  it  actually  is,  to  which  every  thing  else  is  subser- 


vient.  If  we  are  chastized  and  corrected,  it  is  to 
compel  us,  by  our  necessities,  to  reflect  on  our  true 
interests,  and  betake  ourselves  to  our  only  refuge  :  if 
we  are  relieved  and  consoled,  it  is  to  lead  us  to  ac¬ 
knowledge  the  hand,  which  hath  delivered  us  out  of 
the  snare  of  the  fowler.  If  signal  judgments  come 
upon  the  earth,  if  God  rebukes  many  nations,  and 
smites  in  sunder  the  heads  over  divers  countries,  it 
is,  though  we  may  not  always  see  the  distinct  pur¬ 
pose,  .  .  it  is,  I  say,  to  remove  some  obstacles,  or  to 
bring  into  operation  some  means  connected  with  that 
kingdom  of  the  Messiah,  which  God  has  sworn  in  his 
holiness  to  set  up  in  the  hearts  of  men.  And,  again, 
if  particular  nations  are  signally  protected ;  are  re¬ 
peatedly  rescued  from  menaced  calamity  ;  it  is,  be¬ 
cause  such  deliverances  are,  in  that  instance,  fittest 
to  promote  the  same  infinitely  glorious  design.  If 
Jerusalem  was  delivered  from  Sennacherib,  and  if 
Great  Britain  be  preserved  from  the  no  less  over¬ 
bearing  tyrant  of  to-day,  it  is  for  God’s  own  sake,  and 
for  his  servant  David’s  sake;  that  is  for  the  sake  of 
the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah. 

And  may  we  not,  with  all  humility,  conjecture 
some  reasons,  why  the  British  empire  should  be  thus 
distinguished  ?  Has  not  God  made  great  use  of  it, 
even  already,  as  exemplifying  to  mankind  a  state  of 
society,  and  a  form  of  the  Christian  religion,  more 
truly  worthy  of  imitation,  than  any  others  that  are, 
or,  perhaps,  ever  have  been  ?  Why  God  thus  dis¬ 
tinguished  us,  we  know  no  more,  than  why  he  dis¬ 
tinguished  the  Jews :  but  this  we  know,  that  in 
comparison  with  other  countries,  we  may,  in  great 
degree,  apply  to  our  islands,  what  God,  by  his  pro¬ 
phet,  applies  to  the  hill  of  Sion :  c  My  well-beloved 
hath  a  vineyard  in  a  very  fruitful  hill ;  and  he  fenced 

q  2 


it,  and  gathered  out  the  stones  thereof,  and  planted 
it  with  the  choicest  vine.’  Yes,  God  hath,  as  it  were, 
taken  much  pains  with  our  empire  ;  and,  by  many  a 
complicated  plan  of  providence,  has  brought  us  to 
what  we  arc :  .  .  both  in  our  religious  faith,  in  which 
rationality  and  spirituality  are  harmonized  ;  in  our 
public  worship,  in  which  simplicity  and  dignity  are 
united  ;  in  our  national  government,  in  which  efficient 
authority  goes  hand  in  hand  with  genuine  liberty ; 
and  in  the  prevalent  manners  of  the  country,  in  which, 
amid  many  painful  instances  of  open  vice  in  some 
classes,  and  as  open  folly  in  others,  still  good  sense 
we  may  hope  has,  on  the  whole,  a  more  powerful 
check,  than  in  most  other  countries  in  the  world. 

But  why  has  God  given  us  these  benefits ;  and 
why  does  he  still  continue  them  to  us  ?  Most  as¬ 
suredly,  for  this  alone,  that  we  may  improve  them,  not 
only  to  our  own  advantage,  but  to  that  of  the  world. 
We  have,  as  a  country,  we  have,  as  individuals,  more 
ready  means,  probably,  of  glorifying  God,  than  any 
other  people  on  earth.  There  is  not  a  time  that  we 
assemble  in  the  house  of  prayer,  that  we  have  not  a 
fresh  entry,  as  it  were,  made  against  us  in  the  books 
of  heaven  :  for,  not  only  our  entire  service,  but  many 
single  collects  teach  us,  distinctly  and  impressively, 
the  nature  of  that  religion  to  which  God  calls  us  ; 
and  to  which  we,  favoured  as  we  are,  should,  by  our 
example,  be  calling  the  world.  Where  no  such  pure 
service  as  ours  has  been  presented  ;  or  where  the 
whole  is  at  the  option  of  the  minister,  and,  therefore, 
falls  as  he  falls,  perhaps  into  wrongness  of  faith,  as 
well  as  coldness  of  heart,  then  the  case  may  be  very 
different,  and  the  account  to  be  rendered  much  less. 
But  to  us,  by  virtue  of  our  apostolic  liturgy,  vital 
Christianity  is  continually  held  forth,  in  all  its  fulness, 


its  depth,  its  beauty  ;  and  is  it  not  peculiarly  in  order 
to  the  continuance  of  this  blessing,  that  we  have 
been  spared  so  long,  and  delivered  so  frequently  ? 
But,  if  we  continue  to  neglect  this  blessing,  .  .  to  im¬ 
prove  it  no  better  than  we  have  done,  or  are  now 
doing,  .  .  what  have  we  to  look  forward  to  ?  God, 
surely,  expects  from  us,  that  we  should  not  remain 
barren  or  unfruitful,  under  so  permanent  a  provision 
for  conveying  the  good  seed  into  our  hearts.  ‘  The 
earth,  &c.  &c.’  Heb.  vi.  7,  8. 

The  excellent  writers  on  religious  subjects  might 
be  alluded  to,  who  certainly  excel  all  other  writers  in 
the  world :  but  that,  I  only  suggest. 

The  liberty  of  doing  as  we  please,  which  we  pecu¬ 
liarly  enjoy,  is  a  talent  which  God  expects  us  to  im¬ 
prove.  We  may,  in  this  land  of  liberty,  regulate  our 
conduct  by  reason  ;  because  the  authority  of  law  and 
government  is,  with  us,  congruous  with  reason  ;  and 
the  consequence  is,  that  even  fashion,  with  us,  is  not 
that  despotic  thing,  which  it  is  in  less  favoured  coun¬ 
tries.  Personal  and  domestic  conduct  is  unfettered 
by  any  considerations,  but  those  of  good  sense  and 
conscience. 

It  is  not,  therefore,  wonderful,  that  so  favoured  a 
land  as  the  British  empire,  should  be  guarded,  still, 
by  that  hand  that  formed  it :  but,  if  we  bury  our 
talents ;  if  we  do  not  shine  as  lights  in  the  world  ; 
if  we  do  not  honour  to  that  religion,  the  fullest 
knowledge  of  which  we  may  have,  if  it  be  not  our 
own  fault ;  .  .  what  have  wre  to  look  to,  but  the  fate 
of  the  barren  fig-tree  ? 

This  impresses  itself  the  more  strongly,  when  it  is 
remembered,  that  though  God  delivered  Jerusalem 
for  his  own  sake,  and  for  his  servant  David’s  sake, 
when  menaced  by  Sennacherib,  he,  nevertheless,  soon 

q  3 


% 


230 


after,  delivered  it  into  the  hand  of  Nebuchadnezzar ; 
and  though,  in  the  one  case,  not  a  bank  was  per¬ 
mitted  to  be  raised,  in  the  other,  its  walls  were  laid 
low,  and  levelled  with  the  ground. 

Can  there  be  a  more  awful  warning,  or  one  more 
suitable  for  us  to  lay  to  heart  ?  Their  deliverance, 
was  far  more  signal  than  ours  ;  yet  that  was  no  secu¬ 
rity  against  a  speedy  change,  in  the  conduct  of 
Providence  toward  them,  when,  instead  of  being 
instructed,  they  grew  more  careless  and  hardened 
by  mercies. 

And  what  was  their  chief  fault  ?  ‘  Cursed  is  he/ 

saith  the  Scripture,  4  that  trusteth  in  man  ;  and 
maketh  flesh  his  arm  ;  and,  in  his  heart,  goeth  from 
the  Lord.’  They  had,  as  we  have,  peculiar  grounds 
to  make  God  their  refuge  ;  but  of  the  rock  which 
begat  them  they  were  unmindful,  and  forgot  the  God 
that  formed  them  :  £  therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord, 
forasmuch  as  this  people  refuseth  the  waters  of  Shi- 
loah,  which  flow  softly  (that  gentle  brook,  the  stream 
which  flowed  fast  by  the  oracle  of  God,  and  made,  by 
the  appointment  of  Heaven,  an  emblem  of  that  noise¬ 
less  energy  of  omnipotence,  which  was  their  invalu¬ 
able  portion)  and  rejoice  in  Rezin  and  Remaliah’s 
son,  therefore,  behold,  the  Lord  bringeth  up  upon 
them  the  waters  of  the  river,  strong  and  mighty, 
even  the  king  of  Assyria,  and  all  his  glory ;  and  he 
shall  come  up  over  all  his  channels,  and  go  over  all 
his  banks.’ 

And  is  not  this  our  fault  ?  and  may  not  Divine 
Providence  have  indicated  it  to  us,  in  the  death  of 
our  most  successful  warrior?  We  may,  indeed, 
mourn  for  him,  as  the  Jews  for  Judas  Maccabeus. 
1  Mac.  ix.  20,  21.  But  may  not  we,  and  our 
countrymen  ask,  whether,  by  trusting  in  him,  and 


231 


in  our  hearts  going  from  that  God  whose  gift  he 
was,  we  may  not  have  provoked  our  heavenly  King 
to  take  from  us  our  champion  ?  It  is  surely  worthy 
of  most  awful  reflection,  that,  at  the  same  time,  we 
should  gain  a  victory,  and  lose  him  who  gained  it, 
and  had  gained  many.  Surely,  this  mixes  admon¬ 
ition  with  mercy,  warning  with  deliverance. 

Would  we,  then,  secure  to  our  country  a  con¬ 
tinuance  of  the  blessings,  so  long,  and  so  singularly 
vouchsafed  to  us,  let  us  deeply  lay  to  heart  what 
these  words  convey.  God  delivered  Jerusalem,  for 
his  own  sake ;  that  is,  for  the  sake  of  religion  :  and 
for  his  servant  David’s  sake  ;  that  is,  because  David’s 
love  to  God,  was  remembered  in  behalf  of  his  nation. 
Let  us,  then,  set  ourselves,  in  good  earnest,  to  be 
workers  together  with  God ;  both  in  promoting  reli¬ 
gion  in  our  own  hearts,  and  in  the  world  :  by  the  first, 
we  shall  ourselves  add  to  the  safety  of  our  land,  as  ten 
righteous  persons  would  have  procured  the  deliver¬ 
ance  of  Sodom ;  by  the  second,  we  shall  increase  its 
happiness,  and  insure  its  well  being.  And  let  each 
individual  lay  to  heart,  that,  let  events  turn  out  as 
they  may,  he  will  secure  his  own  [safety],  when 
sinners  in  Zion  are  afraid,  when  fearful  ness,  &c. 


LETTER  32. 


To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehh . 


My  dear  Friend, 


Bellevue,  Dec.  9.  1805. 


I  am  going  to  ask  a  favour  of  you :  which  is,  that 
you  will,  on  receipt  of  this,  send  me  your  sermon 
on  4  They  that  sleep,  sleep  in  the  night’,  &c. :  that 
is,  that  you  will  enclose  it  to  Mr.  Taylor.  I  will 
safely  return  it  to  you,  in  the  course  of  the  ensuing 
week.  The  fact  is,  I  wish  to  have  it  to  read  here, 
in  the  chapel,  on  Sunday  evening  next. 

This  may  strike  you  as  a  whimsical  kind  of  re¬ 
quest  :  but  you  will  consider  the  painful  dearth  there 
is  of  good  sermons ;  and  you  will,  also,  have  no 
objection,  thus  to  elongate  your  faculty  of  doing 
good ;  besides,  from  the  honest  report  I  will  make 
to  you  of  the  effect,  you  will  be  a  better  judge  how 
far  you  may  hope  to  profit  the  public,  by  sending 
out  some  of  your  discourses. 

I  naturally  wish  to  hear  from  you  about  your 
thanksgiving  sermon,  and  whether  my  hints  were 
useful  to  you.  I  was  pretty  well  employed,  as  I 
was  obliged  to  write  an  entire  sermon  for  one  person, 
and  part  of  one  for  another.  The  person  for  whom 
I  wrote  the  entire  sermon,  modified,  and  I  doubt 
not,  improved  it.  The  part  was  delivered  in  my 
own  hearing,  one  or  two  errors  excepted,  verbatim. 

I  hope  you  are  pretty  well  at  present ;  for  I  am 
going,  with  your  good  leave,  to  enlist  you  into  a 
service  of  some  magnitude.  It  is,  to  preach  a 
charity  sermon  for  the  Orphan  House.  Mrs. - 


<235 


had  looked  to  — — ;  but  he  wishes  to  decline  it ; 
and  on  grounds,  which  convince  her  she  ought  not 
to  press  him.  He,  therefore,  being  out  of  view, 
she  next  looks  towards  you  :  for  her  object  is  to  have, 
if  possible,  a  Christian  sermon.  I  own  I  wish  you  to 
accede  to  her  request,  and  if  you  do,  I  will  furnish 
you  with  a  text,  which  you  will  love  to  enlarge 
upon  ;  and  some  hints,  which,  I  hope,  you  will  not 
dislike.  You  have  time  enough  before  you,  as  it 
will  not  be  till  some  time  in  May. 

I  hope,  earnestly,  to  hear  from  you  continued 
good  accounts  of  your  health  and  spirits  ;  to  which, 
I  am  well  assured,  no  earthly  means  can  be  more 
conducible,  than  your  steady  perseverance  in  riding. 
But  what  I  also  once  more  mention  to  you  is,  the 
desirableness  of  your  taking  the  beginning  of  the 
week  for  your  sermon.  This  would  leave  your  mind 
so  disengaged,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  week,  that 
exercise  would  be  doubly  serviceable  to  you.  I  am 
afraid  I  may  be  in  danger  of  teazing  you  on  this 
point :  but,  indeed,  I  am  impressed  so  much  with 
its  importance  for  you,  and  I  consider  it,  also,  as  so 
good  an  opportunity  for  you  to  acquire  self-command, 
that  I  cannot,  consistently  with  my  deep  concern  for 
your  health  and  happiness,  omit  to  mention  it. 

I  must  now  break  off,  as  the  gentleman  who  is  to 
carry  this  to  town  is  on  the  point  of  going.  My 
cordial  love  to  the  Archbishop. 

J.  D.  has  probably  written  to  you  before  this.  He 
perseveres  in  writing  most  happy  letters  to  me,  and 
to  Mrs.  L.  That  is,  one  to  each  of  us,  since  he 
returned  home. 

Always  yours, 

A.  K. 


234 


% 


LETTER  XXXV. 
To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Dec.  17.  1805. 

My  dear  Sir, 

Along  with  this,  I  send  you  a  copy  of  my  ordination 
sermon  ;  which  I  was  under  the  necessity  of  making 
later  in  the  week,  than  you  would  recommend.  The 
truth  is,  that,  between  preparing  my  examination, 
the  examination  itself,  and  some  indisposition,  I 
found  myself,  pretty  late  on  Saturday,  without  any 
other  provision  for  the  next  day,  than  an  arranged 
plan  in  my  head,  and,  on  trying  to  write,  that  even¬ 
ing,  I  could  compass  no  more  than  the  introduction 
(p.  1.)  ;  being  really  exhausted,  by  the  prelections  I 
had  been  giving  for  three  days.  In  this  dilemma,  I 
thought  it  best  to  go  to  bed  at  eight  o’clock,  and  rise 
very  early.  Accordingly,  at  one  o’clock,  a.  m.,  I 
rose,  and  put  to  paper  what  I  now  send.  It  gives 

me  much  pleasure  to  think  that  Mr.  - ,  the  new 

priest,  is  under  very  serious  impressions.  He  is 
certainly,  just  now,  rather  ignorant;  but  his  disposi¬ 
tions  are  excellent.  He  took  hugely  to  all  that  was 
said ;  and  has  this  morning  gone  home,  with  a  gig 
full  of  books,  and  a  very  thorough  resolution  to  give 
himself  up  wholly  to  his  profession.  M.  was  present 
at  the  examination  ;  and  I  think  received  some 
information  which  gave  him  pleasure. 

In  the  sermon  I  now  send,  you  will  recognize  a 
sentiment  from  Ogden,  about  4  all  the  distinctions 
of  morality.’  It  came  forcibly  to  my  mind ;  and 


235 


though  I  had  not  the  volume  to  refer  to,  I  put  it 
down,  possibly  much  marred  in  the  expression.  You 
will  also  recollect  Seneca’s  sentiment,  4  Spiritus  Dei 
res  delicata’,  &c. ;  but  you  will,  perhaps,  still  more 
easily  recognize  ideas,  which  I  have  imbibed  from 
yourself  and  from  4  the  Hints.’  I  know  not  whether 
I  have,  in  any  measure,  made  them  my  own,  by  the 
phraseology  ;  but  whether  they  be  deemed  stolen 
goods  or  not,  they  were  too  much  to  my  purpose  to 
be  set  aside. 

I  fear  this  letter  is  incoherent,  for  I  have  been 
hurried  ;  and  I  am  sure  it  is  ill  and  crookedly  written, 
for  I  have  been  almost  in  the  dark.  But  you  will 
excuse  errors.  Pray  do  write  very  soon  to 

Yours  most  affectionately, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  33. 
To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb. 


Bellev&e,  Bray,  Dec.  20.  1805. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  write  a  line  or  two  to  say,  that  your  sermon 
reached  me  safely  on  Sunday  morning  last ;  and  the 
only  drawback  that  I  have  had,  in  my  pleasure 
respecting  it,  is,  that  I  did  not  read  it  myself  in 
the  evening.  I  thought  I  had  drilled - suffi¬ 

ciently  ;  but  still  it  was  not  what  it  should  be.  It 

was  liked,  however,  by  all ;  and  it  delighted - . 

Mrs,  L.  has  begged  permission  to  have  it  transcribed, 


236 


which  I  was  sure  you  would  not  refuse,  and  I  there¬ 
fore  did  not  oppose. 

I  am  trying  my  own  hand  at  a  sermon  ;  and  have 
got  two  thirds  through  it.  If  I  succeed  in  such 
things,  I,  too,  may  meditate  giving  a  volume  of 
Sunday  readings.  My  text  is  that  verse  in  Habakkuk, 

‘  But  the  just  shall  live  by  his  faith.’  I  find  it  a 
pleasant  subject ;  and  you  know  it  is  a  copious  one. 
I  mean  to  stay  here,  till  towards  the  beginning  of 
the  new  year.  It  is  a  lovely  place ;  and  I  even 
become  more  and  more  attached  to  it. 

You  must  preach  that  sermon ;  and  you  need  feel 
no  difficulty  about  it.  As  soon  as  one  or  two  matters 
are  out  of  my  thoughts,  I  will  furnish  you  with  the 
hints  I  spoke  ofi  for  your  consideration.  Your  letters 
have  given  me  great  pleasure.  I  cannot  but  be  ever 
interested  in  what  concerns  you  ;  and  to  hear  from 
yourself  what  satisfies  me,  is  a  very  great  comfort  in¬ 
deed.  Your  liking  to  ride  alone,  and  finding  your 
faculty  of  solitary  thinking  improve,  is  just  what  I 
could  wish.  I  know  from  a  little,  but  not  enough 
experience,  that  nothing  tends  so  much  to  make  one, 
both  agreeable,  and  useful  in  company,  as  finding 
solitude  agreeable  to  oneself. 

The  fact  is,  there  is  a  certain  inward  strength,  a 
self-possession,  a  self-command,  and,  therefore,  a 
self-satisfaction,  which  is  the  happiest  of  all  posses¬ 
sions  ;  except  that  which  gives  it  (the  knowledge  of 
God,  and  of  Him  whom  he  hath  sent).  But  this 
frame  is  not  to  be  had  at  once,  nor,  perhaps,  at  all,  if 
we  do  not  labour  for  it.  But  we  can  do  this,  only  by 
continued  endeavours  to  practise  it.  And  we  can 
do  so  to  purpose,  in  solitude  only.  Self-command 
must,  indeed,  be  most  essentially  exerted  in  society : 
but  it  must  have  been  got  in  private  ;  in  perpetual 


237 


efforts  to  live  upon  ourselves,  and  be,  under  God, 
our  own  bank,  from  whence  to  draw  comfort. 
Growth  in  this,  is  growth  in  common  sense,  in 
usefulness,  and  in  happiness.  And  to  find  in  myself 
any  satisfactory  proof,  that  I  am  thus  strengthened 
with  might  by  God’s  Spirit  in  the  inner  man,  does 
delight  me.  I  soberly  ask,  what  can  I  want  further 
in  this  world,  but  to  be  still  more  established,  and 
still  more  settled,  in  this  essential  felicity.  The 
bell  has  rung  for  prayers,  I  must,  therefore,  only 
add,  that 

I  am  always  yours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  XXXVI. 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 


Cashel,  Dec.  23.  1805. 

My  dear  Sir, 

This  morning  brought  me  your  letter;  and,  with 
it,  brought  me  much  comfort  which  I  stood  in  need 
of.  This  bad  weather  has  affected  me  with  a  severe 
cold  and  headache  :  the  latter,  indeed,  was  probably 
helped  on,  by  the  necessity  of  framing  a  very  baddish 
confirmation  sermon  for  yesterday :  but,  whatever  be 
the  cause,  I  so  feel  the  effect,  that  I  have  made  a 

provisional  engagement  with  Mr. - ,  that  he  shall 

preach  on  Christmas  day. 

Still,  however,  my  engagement  is  but  provisional ; 
for  I  have  been  thinking  of  a  discourse  on  St.  Matt.  xi. 


238 


4,  5. ;  which,  I  conceive,  may  be  so  managed,  as  to 
suit  Christmas  tolerably.  I  know  not  whether  you 
recollect  my  differing  from  you,  on  the  subject  of  St. 
John’s  doubts  :  formerly,  I  followed  Atterbury,  Dod¬ 
dridge,  &c.  &c.,  in  the  opinion,  that  the  Baptist 
merely  wished  to  remove  the  scruples  of  his  follow¬ 
ers.  Lately,  however,  I  have  come  over  to  the  other 
way  of  thinking.  Our  Lord  never  used  words,  with¬ 
out  a  depth  of  meaning:  but  what  force  or  spirit 
would  there  be  in  ‘  Go  and  shew  John,’  if  St.  John 
had  no  doubt?  Our  Lord  commonly  shaped  his 
answers,  so  as  to  meet  what  was  in  the  heart  of  those 
who  addressed  him.  If,  therefore,  the  doubt  ori¬ 
ginated  with  St.  John’s  disciples,  can  it  be  supposed, 
that  he  would  have  omitted  so  fair  an  opportunity  of 
censuring  their  unbelief;  and  is  it  probable,  that  he 
would  have  used  expressions  which  convey  an  indi¬ 
rect  reproof  to  St.  John,  if  St.  John  did  not  deserve 
it  ?  I  do  not  attribute  much  weight  to  the  argument, 
which  dwells  on  the  full  evidence  that  St.  John  had, 
and  the  direct  testimony  he  bore.  Those  earlier  im¬ 
pressions  might  have  been  considerably  effaced,  when 
the  special  purpose  of  his  mission  was  at  an  end  :  and 
besides,  would  it  not  be  attributing  too  much,  to  him 
who  was  inferior  to  the  least  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  to  suppose,  that  his  faith  remained  unshaken, 
amidst  greater  trials,  than  any  of  the  Apostles  were 
exposed  to,  before  their  Master’s  death  ? 

All  this,  however,  is  little  to  the  purpose  of  my 
sermon.  I  would,  then,  first  put  briefly,  the  evidence 
arising  from  the  miracles  performed :  this  evidence, 
in  itself,  does  not  go  to  prove  the  point  in  question, 
that  Jesus  was  the  Messiah  ;  because,  miracles  might 
have  been  wrought,  by  a  person  with  an  inferior  di¬ 
vine  commission ;  but  when  it  is  considered,  that  the 


very  miracles  wrought,  were  those  which  the  Piophet 
Isaiah  attributed  to  the  Messiah ;  a  prophet  who 
must  have  had  peculiar  weight  with  St.  John;  then, 
indeed,  the  probability  of  our  Lord’s  messiahship 
becomes  very  strong.  But  more  conclusive  evidence 
remains  behind.  ‘  To  the  poor  the  gospel  is  preached.’ 
This  is  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  Christi¬ 
anity  ;  the  point  in  which  it  differs,  from  every 
heathen,  and  every  jewish  system.  The  gospel  is 
preached.  1.  To  the  poor  in  condition.  Contrast 
with  all  philosophical  systems,  which  were  exclu¬ 
sively  adapted  to  the  wise,  to  the  learned,  to  those 
of  superior  stations  in  life.  °2.  To  the  poor  in  spirit, 
(which  though  not  commonly  adverted  to,  I  take  to 
be  the  grand  point,):  in  Isaiah,  it  is  ‘  to  the  meek9, 
which  is  rendered,  in  our  Lord’s  quotation,  ‘  to  the 
poor.’  St.  Luke,  iv.  18.  Now,  that  the  poor  may  sig¬ 
nify  the  poor  in  spirit,  is  evident  from  a  comparison 
of  the  first  beatitude,  with  the  parallel  place  in  St. 
Luke.  These  passages,  taken  along  with  ‘  Come 
unto  me  all  ye  that  labour,  &c.  &c.’,  ‘  The  whole 
need  not  a  physician,  but  they  that  are  sick,  &c.’ ; 
and,  indeed,  compared  with  the  whole  tenor  of  the 
gospel,  leave  no  doubt  on  my  mind,  that  the  answer 
to  St.  John  Baptist,  has  a  direct  reference  to  what  I 
deem  the  highest  branch  of  internal  evidence,  the 
adaptation  of  the  gospel,  to  all  those  who  are  con¬ 
sciously  ‘  wretched,  and  miserable,  and  poor,  and 
blind  and  naked’,  in  a  moral  sense.  The  preaching 
good  tidings,  to  persons  thus  spiritually  poor,  is  a  fine 
contrast  to  Jewish  theology  and  morals ;  which  af¬ 
forded  comfort  to  those  only,  who  thought  themselves 
righteous.  On  the  above,  then,  and  other  grounds,  I 
shall  not  scruple  to  take  that  spiritual  view,  which 
the  common  interpretation  very  imperfectly  affords. 


% 


240 

All  this,  I  fear,  is  meagre,  common-place  stuff!  I 
was  willing,  however,  first  to  satisfy  myself,  and 
then  to  satisfy  you,  that  I  can  think  a  little,  under 
the  pressure  of  bodily  ailments,  which  would,  some 
time  ago,  have  prevented  me  from  thinking  at  all. 
I  am  very  glad  that  my  sermon  could  be  of  any  use 
as  a  Sunday  reading :  and  happy,  on  higher  than 
personal  motives,  that  it  gave  satisfaction  to  the  con¬ 
gregation.  You  judged  quite  right,  in  not  objecting 
to  its  being  transcribed.  Surely,  it  must  ever  be 
most  gratifying  to  me,  to  afford  any  kind  of  gratifica¬ 
tion  to  Mrs.  L - .  But  who,  indeed,  has  a  better 

title  than  you,  to  dispose  of  that,  or  any  sermon  of 
mine  ?  Pray  have  you  since  received  the  enclosure  of 
an  ordination  sermon  ?  I  sent  it  to  Mr.  Taylor,  with 
a  request  that  he  would  forward  it  to  you ;  but  did 

not  mention  B - ,  as  I  was  uncertain  whether 

it  would  reach  you  there. 

Since  you  are  imperative  about  the  Female  Orphan 
Asylum,  I  have  nothing  to  say  in  the  way  of  objec¬ 
tion.  You  know  you  may  freely  and  fully  command 
me.  And  as,  in  this  instance,  you  promise  me  much 
useful  aid,  I  know  not  whether  the  matter  may  not 
be  as  well  thus  settled,  as  in  any  other  feasible  mode  ; 
since  our  friend  is  out  of  the  question.  It  is  cer¬ 
tain  that,  however  I  may  partake  of  the  perfections 
attributed  to  himself,  by  Shakspeare’s  clown,  4  Marry, 
and  I  can  mar  a  good  story  in  the  telling  of  it’,  your 
hints  will  at  least  come  forward  with  this  advantage, 
that  I  can  promise  they  will  be  cordially  received 
by  me.  I  wish  I  could  be  equally  certain  of  feeling 
their  influence  upon  my  heart. 

And  now,  my  dear  sir,  let  me  return  you  my  best 
thanks  for  your  letter :  it  was  a  cordial  to  me,  and 
has  actually  contributed  more  to  support  me  through 


241 


a  day  of  illness,  than  you  can,  perhaps,  well  conceive. 
Will  not  this  be  a  stimulus  to  you  to  write  often, 
though  it  be  but  half  a  page  ?  My  temperament  is 
such,  that  a  little  sound  wisdom,  thrown  in  at  a  need¬ 
ful  time,  cheers  my  spirits  far  more,  than  any  thing 
which  society  can  afford.  Happy  as  I  am  in  con¬ 
versing  with  you,  I  doubt  whether,  in  the  hour  of 
nervous  depression,  a  letter  from  you  would  not  tend 
more  to  calm  and  compose  my  mind,  than  even  a 
whole  day  of  actual  conversation  with  you.  Must 
not  this  arise  from  hence,  that  the  letter  inspires  me 
with  the  wish,  and  solitude  affords  me  the  opportu¬ 
nity,  of  looking  at  home  for  comfort  ?  I  have  often 
wondered,  why  hours  of  your  wise,  instructive,  de¬ 
lightful  talk  have  so  frequently  failed  ‘  mihi  me  red- 
dere  amicum.’  May  not  this  have  been  the  cause,  .  . 
that  I  was  seduced,  by  it,  to  transgress  that  sage 
moral  maxim,  Ne  te  quaesiveris  extra  ? 

The  Archbishop  called  on  me  just  before  my  dinner. 
I  talked  over  with  him  the  substance  of  what  I  wrote 
above,  as  to  the  poor  in  spirit ;  at  first,  he  differed 
altogether ;  but,  latterly,  was  coming  round  to  me. 
I  hope  I  have  not  been  wrong  in  my  view ;  for,  pro¬ 
bably,  I  shall  have  preached  on  the  subject,  before 
an  answer  from  you  could  reach  me.  I  was  much 
struck,  some  weeks  back,  with  passages  from  Seneca 
and  Lucretius,  graphically  descriptive  of  the  tedium 
vitrn  :  one  from  Lucretius  I  will  transcribe  for  you, 
lest  you  should  not  have  the  book  to  refer  to  : 

Si  possent  homines,  proinde  ac  sentire  videntur 
Pondus  inesse  animo,  quod  se  gravitate  fatiget, 

Et  quibus  id  fiat  causis  cognoscere,  et  unde 
Tanta  mali  tanquam  moles  in  pectore  constet ; 

Haud  ita  vitam  agerent,  ut  nunc  plerumque  videmus. 

Quid  sibi  quisque  velit,  nescire,  et  quaerere  semper, 

VOL.  I.  R 


242 

Commutare  locum,  quasi  onus  deponere  possit. 

Exit  saepe  foras,  magnis  ex  aedibus  ille, 

Esse  domi  quem  pertaesum  ’st,  subitoque  revertit ; 
Quippe  foris  nihilo  melius  qui  sentiat  esse. 

Currit  agens  mannos  ad  villam  hie  praecipitanter, 
Auxilium  tectis  quasi  ferre  ardentibus  instans : 
Oscitat  extemplo,  tetigit  cum  limina  villae  ; 

Aut  abit  in  somnum  gravis,  atque  oblivia  quaerit, 
Aut  etiam  properans  urbem  petit,  atque  revisit. 

Hoc  se  quisque  modo  fugit :  at,  quem  scilicet,  ut  fit, 
Effugere  haud  potis  est,  ingratis  haeret,  et  angit.* 


Is  not  this  a  masterly  description  ?  The  whole  car¬ 
ries  the  impression  of  real  life  ;  it  is  no  fancy  piece. 
Some  of  the  touches  describe  the  very  manners  of  to¬ 
day.  ‘  Currit  agens  mannos.’  There,  we  have  pre¬ 
cisely  the  curricles  and  ponies  of  Bond  Street ;  for, 
happily,  Bond  Street  has  monopolized  our  Dublin 
loungers  of  the  first  rate,  . .  one  of  the  best  results 
of  the  Union.  But,  indeed,  we  have,  throughout,  an 
almost  living  picture  of  the  miserable  shifts  and  expe- 


*  1  If,  while  they  feel  the  cares  that  clog  the  mind. 

Whose  ponderous  load  weighs  down  the  soul,  mankind 
Could  equal  learn  what  source,  what  causes  press 
Their  breasts  with  such  a  mountain  of  distress, . . 
Changed  in  their  thoughts,  their  actions,  and  their  views. 
And  taught  to  seize  the  good,  the  bad  refuse. 

They  would  not  look,  as  now,  to  fly  their  lot. 

And  seek,  as  happiness,  they  know  not  what ; 

For  ever  wandering,  as  though  the  mind, 

In  different  climes,  a  different  state  could  find. 

Tired  of  the  house,  one  leaves  his  lofty  dome. 

But,  finding  nought  abroad,  revisits  home  : 

One  to  his  villa  whirls  the  rapid  car, 

As  though  the  roof  were  blazing  from  afar  ; 

’T  is  reached, .  .  he  nods,  and  sinks  to  sleep  away. 

In  dark  oblivion,  all  his  ill-spent  day ; 

Or  turning  back,  regains  the  crowded  street. 

That  something  seeking,  which  he  ne’er  shall  meet. 

Each  flies  himself ;  that  self,  which  none  can  fly. 

Still  goads  his  course  with  secret  agony.’ 


MS 


dients,  by  which  the  world  is  trying,  ‘  onus  deponere.* 
Lucretius  knew  the  malady  right  well ;  unhappily,  he 
did  not  know  the  cure.  His  remedy  was  suicide  ; 
and  after  that,  an  eternal  sleep  :  for  these  he  actually 
proposes,  as  the  only  refuge  of  the  miserable.  Who 
that  deeply  considers  this,  must  not,  from  his  heart, 
bless  God  for  the  gospel  ? 

I  do  believe  the  Archbishop  acquits  me  of  laziness. 
Since  we  parted,  I  have  preached  every  Sunday  but 
two ;  and  in  lieu  of  them,  there  has  been  a  thanks¬ 
giving  sermon ;  besides  the  examination  for  orders, 
and  extra  preparation  for  the  confirmation,  in  the 
course  of  which  I  have  catechized  on  Mondays,  as 
well  as  Fridays.  It  would,  however,  be  a  small 
matter  to  be  acquitted  by  the  Archbishop,  if  I  could 
not  acquit  myself:  this,  I  trust,  I  can.  I  own  I 
should  be  very  thankful,  if  I  were  to  rise  to-morrow 
without  a  throbbing  head ;  in  that  case,  I  might  do 
something  for  Christmas  day. 

Your  faithful  and  affectionate  friend, 

J.  J. 


LETTER  34. 


Bellevue,  Bray,  Dec.  23.  1805. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  thank  you  much  for  sending  me  your  ordination 
sermon  * ;  which  I  think  most  substantially  good :  and 
what  I  particularly  like  in  it,  is  that  easy  flow  of  com- 

*  This  discourse  was  published  in  the  following  year.  See  Jebb’s  Sermons, 
on  Subjects  chiefly  Practical,  Serm.  XI.  .  .  Ed. 

R  S 


244 


position,  to  which  I  was  solicitous  to  see  you  come. 
The  time  in  which  you  wrote  it,  makes  it  appear 

to  me  a  wonderful  little  discourse ;  and  Mrs.  L - 

thinks  it  one  of  the  best  discourses  she  has  ever  read. 
I  do  not  go  thus  far :  but  I  am  highly  pleased  with 
it  indeed.  There  were  one  or  two  places  in  which, 
had  I  been  near,  and  had  there  been  time,  I  should 
have  suggested  a  short  addition,  in  order  to  prevent 
your  meaning  being  mistaken.  For  example,  where 
you  say,  that  4  the  word  of  God  would  enable  ’,  (I 

quote  from  memory,  for  Mrs.  L -  has  not  yet 

returned  the  sermon,)  I  should  have  expressly  added, 
4  when  impressed  by  the  Spirit  of  God/  You  may 
be  sure  I  conceive  you  to  have  had  this  fully  in 
your  thoughts.  And,  where  you  speak  of  the  Bible 
furnishing  such  rich,  and  diversified  materials,  I 
should  have  recommended  the  express  recognition  of 
the  utility  and  necessity  of  human  learning,  as  both 
philologically,  and  philosophically,  aiding  the  due  un¬ 
derstanding  of  God’s  word.  This,  too,  you  feel  just 
as  much  as  I.  In  fact,  my  good  friend,  your  style 
of  preaching  seems  to  me  to  be  wonderfully  what  it 
should  be  ;  and  its  being  so,  and  its  obvious  improve¬ 
ment  as  to  manner,  even  in  this  last  discourse,  gives 
me  most  cordial  gratification  and  satisfaction. 

I  must  only  add,  that  I  am  always  your’s, 

A.  K. 


215 


LETTER  35. 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehb. 


Written  at  B - ,  Jan.  4., 

Dated  from  Dublin,  Jan.  7.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  ought,  before  this,  to  have  acknowledged  the  re¬ 
ceipt  of  your  pleasant  letter.  It  was  a  cordial  to  me. 
Every  sentiment  and  observation  in  it,  relative  to 
yourself  and  to  human  nature,  I  cordially  agreed 
with  ;  and  am  obliged  to  you  for  the  passage  from 
Lucretius,  which  is  most  remarkable.  But,  as  to  the 
meaning  of  the  text  there,  I  do  not  so  fully  accord 
with  you.  I  say,  so  fully,  because  I  have  no  doubt 
that  your  sense  is  really  in  the  text ;  but,  in  my 
mind,  not  as  the  immediate  meaning,  but  as  that 
which  the  literal  meaning  leads  to,  or  rather  (what  is 
very  near  your  own  idea)  involves.  I  would  object 
only  to  its  being  supposed,  that  our  Lord  meant 
those  to  whom  he  spoke,  or  even  John,  so  to  under¬ 
stand  him.  The  frame  of  mind  John  appears  to  have 
sunk  into,  made  it  peculiarly  expedient  to  present  to 
him  proofs,  sensible  and  palpable ;  therefore,  our 
Saviour  says,  *  Go,  and  tell  John  the  things  which 
ye  hear  and  see.’  Now,  what  did  they  hear  and  see, 
respecting  the  particular  point  you  speak  of?  Not, 
I  think,  the  spiritual,  but  the  literal  fact :  our  Lord 
was,  at  the  time,  working  miracles,  and  surrounded 
by  a  multitude  ;  for,  as  the  messengers  of  John  4  de¬ 
parted,  he  began  to  say  to  the  multitude’,  See.  He, 
therefore,  made  an  appeal  to  their  own  senses $  and, 

r  3 


246 


as  their  senses  were  not  yet  so  exercised,  as  to  dis¬ 
cern  spiritual  things  in  themselves  ;  nor,  probably,  to 
apprehend  much  about  any  thing  inward ;  they  would, 
of  course,  explain  our  Saviour’s  words,  by  what  they 
saw  5  and  give  the  same  literal  meaning  to  the  poor, 
as  to  the  blind,  the  lame,  the  lepers,  the  deaf,  and 
the  dead.  In  which  terms,  however,  there  was,  gene¬ 
rally  at  least,  if  not  particularly,  a  spiritual  purport,  as 
well  as  in  the  other ;  as  appears  from  St.  John,  ix.  39, 
&c.  &c. 

Yet  I  must  allow,  that  the  last  particular  involves 
a  spiritual  meaning,  more  necessarily  than  the  others  : 
because,  in  whatever  sense  we  are  to  understand  the 
poor,  the  evangelizing  them  is,  ipso  facto,  a  spiritual 
blessing.  This,  however,  does  not,  1  conceive,  make 
at  all  against  the  primary  meaning  of  being 

literal.  I  rather  think  there  is  a  peculiar  propriety 
in  so  understanding  it,  because,  in  this  view,  I  think 
this  last  fact  becomes  the  uniting  link,  by  which 
the  old  dispensation,  and  the  new,  are  connected 
together. 

Isaiah  prophesied  of  the  Messiah  all  the  things 
here  enumerated,  and  particularly  the  last.  He  pro¬ 
phesied  under  an  outward,  and  miraculous  dispens¬ 
ation  ;  under  which  dispensation,  also,  the  Messiah 
was  to  come.  The  prophecy,  ultimately,  pointed  to 
spiritual  blessings  :  the  Messiah  came,  substantially, 
for  spiritual  purposes.  But,  as  the  prophecy  must 
speak  the  language  of  the  existing  dispensation,  so 
the  Divine  personage,  whom  the  prophet  described, 
must  literally,  as  well  as  spiritually,  fulfil  the  pro¬ 
phecy,  in  order  to  fit  the  circumstances  under  which 
he  appears.  His  divine  course  commences,  under 
the  outward  system  of  judaism:  outward  miracles, 
therefore,  must  attend  that  commencement,  to  show 


247 


that  he  is  the  consummation  of  that  system.  He, 
therefore,  does  literally,  all  that  Isaiah  predicts,  as 
the  necessary  introduction  to  his  doing  the  same 
things  spiritually.  But,  as  the  prophet  had  remark¬ 
ably  added  a  spiritual  blessing  to  all  the  rest,  so  our 
Saviour  adds  to  his  outward  miracles,  from  the  very 
beginning  of  his  ministry,  this  completely  spiritual 
function  ;  that  is,  he  engages,  professedly  and  osten¬ 
sibly,  in  the  instructing  of  that  part  of  society,  who, 
until  now,  had  been  comparatively  neglected.  And 
he  does  so,  not  only  from  divine  benevolence  to  those 
whom  he  commiserated  ‘  as  sheep  having  no  shep¬ 
herd  ’,  but  to  show,  by  an  impressive  and  intelligible 
act,  the  complete  spirituality  of  the  system  he  was 
about  to  introduce. 

You  justly  observe,  that  this  is  the  point,  in  which 
the  gospel  differs  from  every  heathen,  and  every 
jewish  system ;  and  you  add,  that  the  preaching  to 
the  poor  in  condition,  forms  a  contrast  with  all  philo¬ 
sophical  systems.  But  I  would  add,  that  the  differ¬ 
ence  does  not  lie  merely  between  every  philosophical 
and  every  Jewish  system,  and  Christianity ;  but  be¬ 
tween  the  divine  dispensations  of  Judaism,  and  Chris¬ 
tianity  :  for  judaism,  being  a  system  of  temporal 
blessings  and  promises  (I  speak  not  now  of  the 
spiritual  and  moral  influences,  which  ran  on,  latently, 
from  the  patriarchs,  and  preserved,  throughout  the 
jewish  economy,  a  kind  of  subterranean  course,  .  .  ‘  If 
thou  seekest  her  as  silver,  and  searchest  for  her  as  for 
hid  treasures  ’,  says  Solomon,  * .  though  bubbling  up 
every  now  and  then,  in  the  Psalms  and  the  Prophets  : 
but  I  speak  strictly  of  the  mosaic  dispensation)  this, 
I  say,  being  as  it  was,  there  was  actually  no  text  to 
preach  to  the  poor  upon  ;  no  open,  no  warrant,  for 
evangelizing  them.  Some  scintillations  of  such  a 

ii  4 


248 


thing,  appear  in  the  prophetic,  and  devotional  parts  ; 
but,  in  the  law  itself,  absolutely  nothing  :  but  rather 
the  reverse.  The  Jewish  poor  might  certainly  pick 
up  much,  to  cherish  the  virtues  fit  to  yield  them 
comfort ;  but  they  were  no  more  expressly  provided 
for,  than  the  heathens  themselves  were. 

Nor  could  this  be  otherwise,  until  a  ‘  more  excel¬ 
lent  ministry 9  should  come  ;  ‘  a  covenant  established 
upon  better  promises’ :  spiritual  promises,  applicable 
to  man  as  man  ;  and  of  course  extending  to  the 
poor,  as  well  as  to  the  rich  :  yea,  more  applicable  to 
the  poor,  as  being  the  only  prospect,  by  which  they 
could  be  rationally  invited  to  take  comfort.  Here, 
then,  lay  the  propriety  of  our  Saviour  seeking  the 
literally  poor,  as  his  most  immediate  charge :  not 
only  because  he,  for  the  first  time,  offered  them 
rational  consolation  ;  but  also  because,  in  doing  so, 
he  evidenced  the  sublime  novelty  of  his  character, 
and  the  peculiar  nature  of  his  mission.  Many  pro¬ 
phets,  in  former  times,  had  wrought  miracles ;  this 
being  perfectly  congruous  with  the  then  state  of 
things :  but  they  did  not  collect  around  them  the 
forlorn  classes  of  society  ;  because  they  had  no  good 
news  for  them  ;  no  blessings  applicable  to  them. 
Nothing,  therefore,  could  so  distinctly  and  unequivo¬ 
cally  manifest  the  opening  of  a  new  state  of  things, 
as  this  particular  conduct  of  our  Saviour :  by  no  act 
could  he,  in  the  first  instance,  so  aptly  have  cracked 
the  shell  of  judaism,  if  I  may  so  speak  ;  in  no  way 
so  strikingly  indicate  his  real  object,  or  so  directly 
disabuse  those  who  entertained  secular  ideas  of  the 
Messiah,  and,  in  a  word,  in  no  other  manner  so  fitly 
make  a  transit,  from  the  one  system,  to  the  other.  I 
would  add,  that,  of  all  possible  predictions,  this  was 
the  most  remarkable,  for  the  reasons  just  given  :  it 


249 


being  in  fact  a  prediction,  which,  when  fulfilled, 
must  imply  the  passing  away  of  a  temporal,  and  the 
establishment  of  a  spiritual  dispensation.  It,  there¬ 
fore,  on  the  whole,  was,  as  I  already  hinted,  the  very 
fittest  for  our  Lord  to  lay  stress  upon,  or  to  conclude 
with,  on  such  an  occasion. 

You  see,  then,  that,  in  my  mind,  the  word  was 
used  by  our  Lord  literally  ;  but  that,  in  this  literal 
fact,  the  spirituality  of  the  Gospel  began  signally  to 
unfold  itself:  and  doubtless  it  was  hereby  mainly 
intimated,  that,  in  this  new  dispensation,  the  rich,  in 
order  to  be  profited,  must  come  down  to  the  same 
level  with  the  poor.  But  there  was  a  poverty  inhe¬ 
rent  in  human  nature,  alike  extreme  in  all.  And,  as 
the  blessings  of  the  new  dispensation  related  wholly 
to  this  poverty,  they  were  first  addressed,  who  were 
most  likely  to  acknowledge  their  want  of  that,  which 

*  JEque  pauperibus  prodest,  locupletibus  seque.’  * 

I  am  inclined  to  think,  that  the  discourse  in  St. 
Luke,  is  not  the  same  with  that  in  St.  Matthew  ;  but 
a  repetition  of  the  substance  of  it,  on  some  other 
occasion.  And  while  the  expression  in  St.  Matthew, 
fixes  the  term  to  a  spiritual  sense,  that  in  St.  Luke 
might  safely  have  a  more  literal  bearing  5  because  it 
is  not,  blessed  are  the  poor,  but  ‘ ye  poor  ye,  who 
have  made  the  right  use  of  your  outward  circum¬ 
stances,  and  are  become  my  disciples,  so  very  few  of 
whom  are  to  be  found  among  the  more  affluent. 

Yet,  if  you  preached  what  you  intended,  you  have 
nothing  to  repent  of :  for,  most  assuredly,  you  have 
said  nothing,  into  which  the  text  would  not  unfold. 
I  mean  only  to  say,  that  the  fullest  scriptural  meaning 

*  Is  equally  profitable  to  rich  and  poor. 


&50 


is  aided  rather  than  [hindered],  by  the  fullest  literal 
interpretation. 

I  sincerely  hope  I  shall  not  lose  sight  of  your  wish 
to  hear  often  from  me,  however  briefly.  You  have, 
I  assure  you,  furnished  me  with  as  strong  motives  for 
doing  this,  as  you  well  could  ;  not  only  by  the  ex¬ 
pressions  in  your  letter,  but  by  the  very  physiognomy 
of  it.  I  think  I  see  in  it  the  very  hilarity,  that  I 
myself  was  the  means  of  exciting ;  and  believe  me, 
to  make  you  cheerful,  will  ever  cheer  myself. 

I  mean  to  return  to  town  on  Tuesday  the  7th, 
after  a  very  pleasant  time.  I  more  and  more  think, 
that  my  visits  to  this  place  are  in  the  order  of  Pro¬ 
vidence  ;  and  I  seem  to  myself  to  perceive  conse¬ 
quences  actually  arising,  from  my  being  here,  which 
gladden  my  heart.  It  is  a  place  which  seems  to  have 
had  the  Divine  eye  peculiarly  upon  it.  And  appear¬ 
ing  to  myself  to  observe  growing  proofs  of  this,  I 
more  and  more  enjoy  myself  here. 

I  presume  you  have,  ere  this,  heard  from - .  I 

know  he  meant  to  write  to  you  :  and  I  think  must 
have  done  so,  if  something  has  not  retarded  it.  I 
certainly  get  charming  letters  from  him. 

I  feel  that  I  have  not  written  as  often,  or  as 
largely,  as  I  should  have  done,  to  the  dear  Arch¬ 
bishop.  I  am  sure  it  is  not  from  want  of  disposition, 
for  he  lives  in  my  heart  of  hearts  :  but  I  find  it  pecu¬ 
liarly  difficult  to  me  to  be  a  regular  correspondent, 
when  there  is  not  stimulating  regularity  in  the  post. 
In  Dublin,  the  hour  of  seven  makes  me  sit  down  at 
six,  and  work  for  fifty-five  minutes  ;  which  leaves 
room  for  one  tolerable  letter.  My  natural  indolence 
requires  all  this :  for,  were  there  not  something  in 
me  to  counteract  bodily  disposition,  I  should  be  as 
torpid  an  animal  as  goes  upon  two  legs.  In  fact,  I 


251 


believe  I  could  not  exist  at  all,  and,  therefore,  I  may 
well  give  thanks  in  every  thing ;  for  every  ray  of 
consolation  I  have  ever  felt,  has  emanated  from,  not 
merely  the  providence,  but  the  grace  of  God.  And 
were  the  influences,  which  have  distinguished  my  last 
eight  years  from  former  years,  to  be,  for  one  day, 
wholly  withdrawn,  that  setting  sun  would  see  me  the 
wretchedest  of  human  creatures.  I  shall  very  shortly 
endeavour  to  talk  to  you,  about  the  text  I  propose  to 
you.  In  the  mean  time,  believe  me  always,  most 
truly  and  entirely  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  XXXVII. 
To  A.  Knooc ,  Esq . 


Cashel,  Jan.  8.  18 06. 

My  dear  Sir, 

X  was  not  without  hopes  of  hearing  from  you  before 
this ;  but,  perhaps,  my  hopes  were  somewhat  unrea¬ 
sonable.  Our  last  letters  passed  each  other  on  the 
road  j  and,  therefore,  as  the  strict  matter  of  debt 
must  remain  in  doubt,  I  feel  that  it  is  my  part,  to 
provoke  you  to  a  renewal  of  that  instruction  and 
delight,  which  I  never  fail  to  receive  from  your 
communications# 

It  gives  me  heart-felt  pleasure,  that  the  little  ordi¬ 
nation  sermon  affords  you  any  gratification  ;  especi¬ 
ally,  in  point  of  style.  But  I  am  sensible  that  much, 


252 


very  much  requires  to  be  corrected  and  acquired  : 
more,  indeed,  than  I  can  hope  will  ever  be  accom¬ 
plished  ;  for,  both  in  matter  and  manner,  I  fear  I  am 
doomed  never  to  rise  above  the  *  non  contemnenda 
mediocritas’  of  Quinctilian,  if,  indeed,  I  ever  got  so 
far.  However,  it  will  be  very  well  if  I  am  enabled 
to  do  what  I  can  ;  though  I  should  never  attain  the 
power  of  doing  what  I  would.  You  will,  perhaps,  be 
well  pleased  to  hear,  that  I  did  not  meddle  with  St. 
John  the  Baptist’s  message.  In  order  to  make  a 
useful  discourse  upon  it,  I  think  it  would  be  necessary 
to  give  that  spiritual  turn,  to  that  part  of  the  gospel 
being  preached  to  the  poor,  which  a  congregation 
might  not  be  prepared  to  acquiesce  in.  And,  as 
plain  and  unquestionable  tests  are  not  wanting,  from 
whence  to  derive  the  instruction  I  wished  to  com¬ 
municate,  it  is  surely  best  to  avoid  setting  out,  with 
prejudices  against  one.  The  Sunday  before  last, 
I  gave  a  little  discourse  on  that  passage  of  Isaiah, 
‘  The  voice  said,  Cry  ’.  ‘All  flesh  is  grass ’,  &c.  I  con¬ 
nected  the  introduction  with  the  season  of  our  Lord’s 
first  advent,  as  leading  to  the  consideration  of  his 
second  ;  and  I  made  full  use  of  Lowth’s  striking 
comment  on  the  whole  passage.  The  body  and  close 
of  the  discourse,  was  occupied  by  reflections,  suitable 
to  the  close  of  the  year,  with  a  short  reference  to  the 
sudden  death  of  Mr.  Mansergh,  the  curate  of  Tippe¬ 
rary,  who  was  carried  off  on  Christmas- day,  after  an 
illness  of  only  three  days.  He  was  well  known  to 
most  of  the  congregation,  and  nearly  connected  with 
some  of  them.  The  awfulness  of  the  subject,  and 
the  train  of  thought  which  that  very  pregnant  text 
naturally  produced,  did,  I  think,  deeply  impress  ;  but 
whether  permanently,  remains  yet  to  be  decided. 

-  has  written  me  a  most  happy  letter.  The 


253 


very  sentiments  your  heart  could  wish,  flowing 
forth  with  spontaneous  liveliness ;  coming  from  the 
heart,  and  speaking  to  the  heart.  In  truth,  my  dear 
sir,  he  has  got  S.  Chrysostom’s  wings.  He  is  now  a 
hawk,  or  an  eagle  ;  and,  I  trust,  untethered,  or  at  least 
without  any  other  incumbrance  than  a  few  tags,  or 
threads,  which  will  soon  crumble  into  dust,  and 
mingle  with  the  thin  air.  I  do,  with  my  soberest 
judgment,  expect  great  things  from  him.  All  the 
ardour  of  his  fine  spirit  still  remains  ;  only  that  he  is 
now  directed  to  loving,  more  than  to  doing.  And 
we  know  that  the  progress,  in  the  one  case,  is  infinite  ; 
while,  in  the  other,  it  is  bounded  in  very  narrow 
limits.  Why  should  he  not  have  been  urged  to  accept 
the  Orphan  Asylum  sermon  ?  I  conclude  there  were 
some  urgent  reasons,  or  Mrs.  L.  would  not  have  let 
him  off.  But  do  you  not  think,  that,  by  preaching  a 
Christian  discourse  on  that  occasion,  he  might  have 
done  much  good  ?  There  is  something  so  attractive, 
so  gentle,  so  winning,  in  his  manner,  that  we  may  say 
of  him,  in  a  qualified  sense, 

‘  That  truths  divine  come  mended  from  his  tongue.’ 

If  you  could  give  me  a  text  for  a  Cashel  sermon,  and 
a  very  short  paper  of  hints,  I  would  be  very  glad  to 
write  from  it :  such  a  thing  might,  perhaps,  be  here 
in  time,  to  enable  me  to  have  it  against  Sunday,  19th 
inst.  The  shorter  the  hints,  the  more  acceptable ; 
because  my  object  is  to  be  led  into  a  train  of  thought 
for  myself.  When  you  send  any  thing  at  length,  I 
find  your  words  so  good,  that  from  a  consciousness  of 
inability  to  supply  better,  I  use  them  more  than  it  is 
perhaps  honest,  or  serviceable  to  myself  to  do.  If, 
however,  you  are  otherwise  employed ;  or  if  you  do 


254 


not  find  half  an  hour,  which  may  as  well  be  employed 
this  way,  as  any  other,  I  beg  you  may  not  think  of 
troubling  yourself. 


LETTER  XXXVIII. 
To  A .  Knox ,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Jan.  30.  1806. 

My  dear  Sir, 

Y" our  note  was  handed  to  me  by  Mr.  Torrens  *,  for 
whom  I  had  before  been  looking  out ;  and  whom, 
from  character,  I  was  well  prepared  to  receive  as  a 
friend.  The  character  I  had  heard  of  him,  and  his 
own  interesting  manners,  would  have  warmly  recom¬ 
mended  him  to  me :  but  what  you  say,  binds  me  to 
him  still  more  closely ;  and  makes  me  regret  only,  that 
it  is  not  in  my  power  to  serve  him  substantially.  But 
what  I  can  do  I  will  do. 

/ 

Your  letter  of  hints  reached  me,  and  found  me  well 
prepared  for  it :  as  I  had  been  conning  over  Isaiah,  iv. 
with  a  view  to  a  sermon ;  and  reading  Vitringa  and 
the  Critici  Sacri,  from  whom  I  was  deriving  some 
light.  Your  text,  therefore,  fell  in  altogether  with 
my  train  of  thought :  and  I  have  since  written  much 
of  a  sermon,  and  hints  for  more  of  it,  pretty  much  on 
your  plan.  I  hope  to  preach  it  next  Sunday  ;  and, 
but  for  circumstances,  would  have  had  it  prepared 
for  last  Sunday.  Your  suggestions  have  been  most 


*  The  late  Rev.  John  Torrens,  master  of  the  diocesan  school  of  Cashel. 


255 


useful,  and  you  just  left  as  much  as  I  could  have 
wished  for ;  enough  to  lead  me  into  a  train  of  thought, 
or  to  continue  the  metaphor,  to  give  me  food  for  re¬ 
flection. 

I  direct  to  Dublin,  but  if  this  find  you  at  B - , 

I  beg  you  will  offer  my  kindest  and  most  respectful 
compliments.  Farewell,  my  dear  friend,  and  believe 
me  your  most  obliged  and  faithful  friend, 

John  Jebb. 

P.  S.  Thank  God,  my  health,  spirits,  and  faculties 
are  pretty  well. 


LETTER  XXXIX. 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq. 


April  17.  1806. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  thank  you  for  your  account  of  the  decision.  I  am 
glad  that  it  has  taken  place  even  by  a  casting  voice, 
which  all  things  considered  was  perhaps  as  much  as 
could  be  expected  against  an  influx  of  party  men, 
who  were  determined  to  act  blindly  on  Dr.  Magee’s 
ipse  dixit. 

It  is  pretty  clear  that  we  are  committed  with  the 
anti- fanatics,  and  if  a  battle  must  be,  it  is  better  they 
should  show  themselves  openly ;  though  for  such 
matters,  I  am  now  very  weak.  The  strange  weather 
has  produced  in  me  an  inflammatory  cold,  of  the  most 
incapacitating  kind.  It  was  hanging  on  me  some  days, 


256 


without  my  knowing  it;  the  consequence  was,  that 
working  as  I  did  for  the  Orphan  Asylum,  I  produced 
some  wretched  stuff ;  and  am  obliged  now  to  give  up 
till  I  reach  town,  unless  I  should  prove  wonderfully 
convalescent  to-morrow  and  next  day.  Please  God, 
I  shall  set  off  on  Monday.  It  would  mortify  me 
deeply  were  this  most  interesting  institution  to  suffer, 
through  my  illness.  I  can  hardly  describe  to  you 
what  have  been  my  feelings  these  two  days  ;  and  now 
I  feel  it  my  duty,  in  every  point  of  view,  not  to  be 
careful  in  the  matter,  but  to  pray  to  God,  if  it  please 
him,  to  remove  my  complaints,  and  to  give  that  aid 
without  which  I  can  do  nothing. 

The  eleven  days  I  hope  to  be  in  Dublin,  will  afford 
me  more  than  time  enough.  You  will  believe  that  I 
do  not  postpone  from  laziness. 

Farewell,  my  dear  sir,  we  shall  I  trust  meet  on 
Wednesday. 

Your  most  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 

Thursday. 


LETTER  XL. 

To  A.  Knox,  Esq . 


Cashel,  June  23.  1806. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  enclosed  you  a  letter,  which  I  received  from  the 

unfortunate - ,  on  my  return  here.  Possibly  you 

might  have  it  in  your  power,  to  convey  him,  for  me, 
a  couple  of  guineas,  which  I  will  thankfully  repay 


%57 


you :  Mr.  Bourne  can  most  probably  let  you  know 
where  he  is  to  be  found.  I  wish  some  little  sub¬ 
scription  could  be  set  on  foot  for  him  :  for  whatever 
have  been  his  faults,  the  poor  man  seems  deeply 
sensible  of  them ;  and  it  is  a  shocking  thing  to  see 
a  clergyman  of  our  establishment,  reduced  to  the 
deplorable  state  he  is  in.  Should  you  think  well  of 
a  subscription,  I  will  write  about  it  to  my  brother, 
who  I  am  sure  would  aid  it ;  and  I  would  then  try 
and  give  somewhat  more,  than  I  have  commissioned 
you  to  give  for  me.  The  fact  is,  I  fear  it  would  not 
be  of  any  service  to  trust  more  money  in  his  own 
hands,  than  the  little  pittance  I  speak  of  for  the 
present.  Were  there  a  subscription,  I  think  it  should 
be  in  some  person’s  hands  for  his  use. 

The  easterly  winds,  and  the  alternate  hot  and  cold, 
have  continued  to  affect  me.  Still,  however,  I  live 
in  hopes  of  getting  better.  My  landlord  has  taken 
down  almost  the  whole  front  of  his  house,  to  make 
alterations;  and  I  am  driven  to  the  library*,  to  take 
refuge  from  the  most  deafening  noise.  I  must,  I 
believe,  accept  the  invitations  of  some  friends,  for 
these  ten  days  to  come,  as  there  is  no  prospect  of 
quietness  at  home. 

I  had  a  long  conversation  with  S - ,  in  town ; 

which  gave  rise  to  a  long  cautionary  letter,  against 
the  pernicious  influence  of  philosophy  and  poetry. 
It  is  well  meant,  but  far  from  judicious.  I  shall 
briefly  thank  him  for  it ;  and  reserve  to  myself  the 
power  of  replying  more  at  large,  in  a  more  conve¬ 
nient  season.  So  far  as  good  S -  is  concerned, 

an  apology  for  the  use  we  would  make  of  philosophy, 
can,  I  apprehend,  produce  little  effect.  But  it  might 

*  Archbishop  Bolton’s  library,  adjoining  the  palace,  at  Cashel.  .  .  Ed. 

VOL.  I.  S 


258 


not  be  amiss,  to  have  some  arranged  and  methodized 
arguments  on  the  subject,  ready  prepared  for  those 
who  may  be  jealous  of  one’s  system. 

I  hope  you  received  the  sheet  of  your  letter,  which 
I  did  indeed  detain  an  unreasonable  time  ;  and  I 
hope,  too,  that  you  have  dispatched  the  whole  to  its 
destination.  Good  may  be  done  by  it ;  for  were 
H.  M,#  decidedly  of  your  way  of  thinking,  with  the 
high  character  she  has  acquired,  and  the  weight 
which  attaches  to  her  sentiments,  among  evangelical 
people,  she  might  be  an  instrument  of  great  good. 

Pray  have  you.  got  Whichcote’s  Aphorisms,  with  a 
correspondence  annexed  between  him  and  Dr.  Tuck- 
ney  ?  In  this  latter,  there  seems  to  be  much  to  the 
purpose,  on  the  great  controversy,  whether  justifi¬ 
cation  be  moral  or  forensic ;  but  I  have  yet  only 
glanced  my  eye  over  it,  having  but  just  procured 
the  book  when  leaving  town. 

Has  any  progress  been  made  in  Dean  Kirwan’s 
sermons?  I  wish  much  that  they  were  collated  with 
those  of  Massillon  and  Bourdaloue,  on  similar  topics: 
for  lately  reading  Massillon’s  sermon,  ‘  sur  le  man- 
vais  riche’,  I  thought  I  recognized  several  of  the 
very  thoughts  with  which  we  were  so  much  pleased, 
in  the  Dean’s  sermon,  on  the  same  subject.  Should 
my  apprehension  have  any  foundation,  which  1  hope 
it  has  not,  this  would  at  once  put  an  end  to  the  pro¬ 
ject  of  publication. 

Are  we  to  hope  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
here  ?  Pray,  my  dear  sir,  do  write  me  a  few  lines  ; 
and  thereby  do  provoke  me  to  send  you  something 
less  vapid,  than  this  most  stupid  epistle. 

Believe  me,  most  gratefully. 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 

Ed. 


*  Mrs.  Hannah  More.  .  . 


LETTER'  36. 

June,  or  July,  1806. 

My  dear  Mr.  Jebb, 

I  have  actually  begun  something,  with  an  eye  to  a 
more  digested  exposition  of  my  sentiments,  which,  if 
I  succeed  in  it,  I  shall  most  probably  publish.  I 
have  not  seen  the  work  you  mention  ;  but  shall  look 
out  for  it :  though,  probably,  I  should  not  find  the  ex¬ 
cellent  Whichcote  expressing  himself  just  as  I  should 
like.  I  conceive  him  to  be  the  head  of  two  stocks  :  the 
great  leaders  of  the  one,  our  well  known  friends  *  ; 
those  of  the  other,  Wilkins  and  Tillotson.  Burnet 
was  not  aware  of  this  twofold  character  :  and,  there¬ 
fore,  ascribes  to  all  of  them,  what  belonged  to  one 
class  only.  For  instance,  he  says,  that  s  they  read 
Episcopius  much/  This  was  clearly  true  (as  I 
conceive)  of  such  as  Wilkins  and  Tillotson ;  for  no 
writer,  I  imagine,  is  more  un-platonic  than  Episco¬ 
pius  ;  nor,  probably,  did  any  more  contribute  to  spoil 
English  theology. 

I  have  this  day  engaged  Keene  to  reprint  Mrs. 
Barbaukl’s  essay  on  devotional  taste ;  and  promised, 
if  he  should  lose  by  it,  I  would  indemnify  him.  I 
will  next  try  to  engage  him  in  reprinting  Cudworth’s 
two  sermons,  f  And  shall  lose  no  time  in  setting 
Dugdale  upon  Smith. 

Yesterday,  at  the  visitation  of  the  country  part  of 
this  diocese,  a  parish  clerk  and  schoolmaster  was 

*  The  Platonists  of  Cambridge,  as  Mr.  Knox  usually  styled  John  Smith, 
Cudworth,  Sec.  .  .  Ed. 

f  Since  republished  by  Bishop  Jebb,  in  the  Protestant  Kempis.  .  .  Ed. 

s  °2 


260 


displaced,  for  being  a  methodist.  This  was  most  im¬ 
politic,  considered  as  a  voluntary  act ;  and  most 
strange,  considered  as  an  event :  most  impolitic, 
because  the  secession  ought  not,  on  any  account,  to 
be  either  accelerated,  or  made  appear  excusable  ;  not 
accelerated,  because,  left  to  themselves,  they  will 
every  day  become  less  formidable  enemies,  and  can 
be  formidable  only  from  being  thrust  out,  while  they 
retain  some  portion  of  their  original  energy.  Besides, 
while  they  continue  in  the  church,  their  non-metho- 
dist  children  continue  professing  members  of  the 
church ;  but  once  make  them  dissenters,  and  the 
schism  will  absorb  their  children,  though  the  [part 
toj'n  away  by  the  seal, ] 

But  it  is  strange  as  an  event.  It  is  a  new  symptom 
of  the  times  being  out  of  joint :  such  a  thing  has  not 
been  done  for  many  years,  perhaps,  never.  In 
England,  most  certainly,  the  dissenting  interest  in¬ 
creases  :  and  not  only  a  disrespect  for,  but  an  igno¬ 
rance  of,  the  establishment,  seems  to  spread.  Even 
this  might  not  ensure  the  downfall  of  the  established 
church,  if  matters  were  left  in  quietness.  But  if, 
while  dissenters  are  multiplied,  they  are  also  exas¬ 
perated,  what  can  be  looked  for,  but  some  such  thing 
as  Bishop  Laud  brought  about,  an  actual  pulling 
down  of  the  church  and  the  hierarchy. 

Believe  me  most  cordially  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


£61 


LETTER  XLI, 

To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 

Cashel,  July  12.  1806. 

My  dear  Sir, 

J  wish  I  had  an  excuse  for  not  answering  your  last 
letter,  which  it  would  give  you  pleasure  to  receive  ; 
but  this  not  being  the  case,  I  must  plainly  state 
the  fact.  I  did  not  write,  because  sunk  as  I  was  in 

mental  power  of  exertion,  while  we  were  at  B - 

I  have  been  much  more  so,  since  my  return  to 
Cashel.  4  I  know’,  said  poor  Cowper,  c  and  know 
most  perfectly,  and  am,  perhaps,  to  be  taught  it  to  the 
last,  that  my  power  to  think,  whatever  it  be,  and 
consequently  my  power  to  compose,  is,  as  much  as 
my  outward  form,  afforded  to  me  by  the  same  hand, 
that  makes  me,  in  any  respect,  to  differ  from  a  brute.’ 
Now,  what  Cowper  said,  I  can  say,  with  no  less 
truth.  The  visitation  of  God,  which  has  been,  and 
which  still  is  upon  me,  I  trust  is  not  suffered  to  pass 
unimproved.  I  feel  that  I  strictly  hold  every  thing 
from  Him  :  and  that,  when  He  is  pleased  to  with-hold 
his  influence,  I  can  do  nothing.  A  feeling,  which  I 
hope  may  pluck  up  by  the  roots,  every  working  of' 
pride,  every  undue  complacency  in  the  fruits  of  my 
own  exertions.  I  am,  however,  aware,  that  there 
may  be  another  danger ;  ;  .  that,  so  wonderfully  are 
we  disposed  to  deceive  ourselves,  it  is  possible  to 
shelter  ourselves,  from  the  self-accusation  which  must 
accompany  wilful  indolence,  under  the  idea,  that  ex¬ 
ertion  is  put  out  of  our  power.  On  this  point,  I  have 

s  3 


£6% 


taken  myselfto  task  ;  and  think,  that,  notwithstanding 
occasional  misgivings,  which  I  believe  attributable  to 
nervousness,  I  can  fairly  and  honestly  acquit  myself 
of  a  disposition  to  be  idle.  The  truth  is,  some  kind 
of  mental  activity  is  necessary  to  my  enjoying  any 
comfort ;  and  were  I  well,  no  manner  of  exertion 
would  more  fall  in  with  my  tastes  and  wishes,  than 
preparation  for  the  pulpit.  But  I  feel  that  the  hand 
of  God  is  upon  me  ;  and,  so  feeling,  I  submit  in 
patience.  Since  my  return,  I  have  been  obliged  to 
preach  a  segment  of  my  last  charity  sermon,  some¬ 
what  modified  ;  to  give  two  borrowed  ones,  and  an 
old  one.  And  to-morrow  I  am  obliged  to  give  one, 
preached  the  4th  of  last  August.  Could  you  furnish 
me  with  a  text  and  hints?  I  will  strive  to  begin  a 
sermon  on  Monday. 

Under  this  malady,  my  spirits  have,  thank  God, 
been  less  depressed  than  formerly  ;  and  though  not 
able  to  give  out ,  I  have  taken  in  a  little.  Reading 
has  been  my  great  resource,  with  some  exercise,  and 
the  variety  of  a  little  active  duty  as  rural  Dean. 

I  most  thoroughly  coincide  in  opinion,  as  to  the 
displacing  of  methodist  clerks.  I  trust  this  measure 
will  not  be  followed  up,  in  other  cases :  should  it  so 
happen,  then  I  would  seriously  apprehend  a  secession 
of  the  whole  body  from  us. 

I  had  a  letter  last  night,  from - .  He  warns  me 

that  I  am  verging  to  excess,  in  my  view  of  contem¬ 
plation  being  the  great  nurse  of  wisdom.  1  am  truly 
obliged  to  him  for  his  friendly  caution  :  but,  as  he 
neither  gives  the  ground  of  his  opinion,  nor  enters 
into  reasoning  on  the  point,  I  cannot  say  that  he  has 
produced  any  revolution  in  my  mind.  I  suppose  his 
apprehensions  for  me,  are  founded,  chiefly,  on  the 
letter  I  wrote  from  B - ;  as  we  had  very  little 


263 


conversation  since,  and  no  communication  by  letter. 
Now  I,  on  the  other  hand,  fear,  that  he  has  too  great 
a  hankering  after  the  activities,  as  ground  of  comfort, 
and  means  of  self-improvement. 

I  am  very  glad  you  are  republishing  :  and  hope 
that,  ere  long,  you  will  give  something  of  your  own 
to  the  world.  Pray  are  we  to  hope  for  you  here? 
The  entire  want  of  society,  has  been  a  damper  to  me : 
but  indeed  I  have  not  been  well  enough  for  society. 
The  variable  weather  affected  me.  I  had  a  greater 
inflammatory  cold,  with  more  feverish,  and  more 
languid  symptoms  than  even  pending  the  orphan 
sermon. 

A  line  from  you  speedily,  would  be  an  act  of  real 
kindness.  It  would  relieve  my  spirits  ;  and  besides, 
I  almost  uniformly  find,  that  such  letters  as  I  have 
from  you,  and  one  or  two  others,  set  me  a  thinking, 
and,  by  doing  so,  render  an  essential  service. 

Believe  me,  dear  Sir, 

Most  truly  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  37. 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jebb. 


July  15.  1805- 

My  good  Friend, 

Were  I  to  write  to  you  but  six  lines,  I  will  not  let 
this  post  pass. 

I  have  been  much  with  methodists  these  eight  days 
past.  There  are  most  excellent  persons  amongst 
them  ;  and,  I  will  add,  the  truest  churchmen  in  the 
world.  But  this  is  not,  perhaps,  the  prevalent  cha¬ 
racter.  The  great  detriment  is,  that  the  majority  of 
them  (I  speak,  you  observe,  of  preachers,)  have  been 
bred  dissenters  ;  and  are  still  too  much  so  at  heart : 
but  I  am  confident,  that,  if  we  are  properly  kind  to 
the  well  disposed  part,  they  will  carry  it  above  the 
other,  though  I  fear  more  numerous  part ;  for  a  good 
cause  is  itself  a  counterpoise  to  number.  They,  I 
hope,  have  behaved  tolerably  at  their  conference.  I 
will  send  you  their  minutes,  to-morrow  or  next  day. 

In  order  to  do  some  good,  if  I  can,  I  am  republish¬ 
ing  Mrs.  Barbauld’s  essay  on  sects  and  establishments. 
I  read  part  of  it  to  rm  cousin  Averell  to-day  (he  is 
actually  my  relation) ;  and  he  was  so  impressed  with 
it,  as  to  satisfy  me  I  was  doing  right.  I  think  of  pre¬ 
fixing  an  address,  and  adding  some  notes.  When  it 
comes  out,  I  shall  send  two  or  three  copies  to  you. 

I  began  with  the  impression  that  I  should  be  able 
to  write  only  a  few  lines.  I  must  stop  now;  and  am, 
my  dear  Friend, 

V  7 

Always  most  faithfully  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


265 


LETTER  38. 

To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehh. 

My  dear  Friend, 

X  wished  to  have  acknowledged  your  most  gratifying 
letter,  by  return  of  post :  but  I  was  obliged  to  write, 
on  the  day  I  received  it,  to  J.  D. ;  and  yesterday,  I 
was  equally  obliged  to  go  out,  at  my  letter-writing 
hour,  which  is  the  interval  between  dinner  and  seven 
o’clock.  The  reason  of  my  going  out  was  poor  Mr. 
Brooke’s  #  death  ;  who  yesterday,  at  four  o’clock,  was 
released  from  all  his  pains. 

I  will  not  say  much  to  you  at  present :  but  I  could 
say  a  great  deal ;  and  every  thing  of  a  pleasant  kind. 
Yes,  my  good  friend,  I  can  venture  to  assure  you, 
that  all  the  desagr6mens  which  you  refer  to  in  your¬ 
self,  are  solely  the  result  of  corporeal  indisposition ; 
in  which  the  poor  mind  may  be  a  fellow-sufferer,  but 
without  deserving  it.  I  trust,  however,  even  this 
will  not  long  afflict  you  :  but  that  the  vis  medicatrix 
naturae,  under  the  efficacious  influence  of  a  yet  better 
physician,  will  soon,  that  is  in  due  time,  get  the  de¬ 
cided  ascendency ;  and  indemnify  you  for  all  your 
foregoing  sufferings,  as  I,  thanks  be  to  my  great 
Benefactor,  am  indemnified  at  this  day.  I  doubt  not 
but,  in  the  mean  time,  ‘  all  things  will  work  together 
for  good.’ 

*  Henry  Brooke,  Esq.,  nephew  to  the  author  of  ‘  Gustavus  Vasa  ’,  and  ‘  The 
Fool  of  Quality  ’,  and  of  kindred  genius  and  goodness.  It  was  the  privilege  of 
the  editor  to  witness  almost  the  last  hours  of  this  eminent  Christian  .  .  t  an 
Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  there  was  no  guile.’ 


266 


Truly,  all  you  say  is  pleasant  to  me,  however  you 
may  see  very  little  matters  magnified,  through  the 
medium  of  a  kind  heart.  Yet  I  will  not,  after  ah, 
call  them  little  :  for  surely  there  was  the  stamp  of 
cordiality  on  the  least  of  them.  And  this  is  what 
you  value.  ‘  Better  is  a  dinner  of  herbs,  where  love 
is;  than  a  stalled  ox’..  I  will  not  merely  say  with 
the  text,  4  and  hatred  therewith  *  .  .  but,  where  love  is 
wanting. 

I  am  pleased  with  all  you  tell  me  ;  and  pleased 
with  your  most  interesting  quotations.  That  is  a 
very  ingenious,  as  well  as  very  just  distribution,  of  the 
powers  of  the  mind  ;  and  it  holds  good,  peculiarly,  in 
the  instance  to  which  he  applies  it.  It  agrees  pretty 
much  with  what  Geo.  Gainden  says  of  Forbes. 


LETTER  XLII. 

To  A .  Knoxy  Esq. 

July  16.  1806. 

My  dear  Sir, 

My  ailments  still  continuing  to  unfit  me  for  busi¬ 
ness,  I  thought  it  right  to  state  fully  to  the  Arch¬ 
bishop,  the  manner  in  which  I  have  been  affected  for 
the  last  three  months.  He  expressed  himself  on  the 
occasion,  like  a  father  and  a  friend.  He  thinks  it  my 
bounden  duty  to  take  care  of  my  health,  in  the  first 
instance ;  and  his  own  bounden  duty,  not  only  to 
sanction  whatever  may  appear  necessary,  but  to  advise 
me  to  it.  And  the  result  of  our  conference  has  been, 
that  I  should  request  of  you,  who  know  my  maladies 
better  than  almost  anybody  else,  to  consult  Dr. 


267 


Perceval  immediately  for  me,  whether  change  of 
scene,  and  relaxation  of  mind,  would  not  be  advis¬ 
able  ;  and  whether  any,  or  what  kind  of  regimen, 
would  be  needful. 

I  need  not  tell  you,  who  know  so  well,  what  my 
general  habits  both  of  body  and  of  life  are :  but  it 
may  not  be  amiss  to  mention,  that  I  awake  every 
morning  with  a  parched  mouth,  and  generally  with  a 
headache,  which  continues  through  the  day  ;  .  .  that 
I  am  often  low  in  spirits  ;  and  that,  for  the  last  three 
weeks,  I  have  had  a  stoppage  in  my  head,  of  a  more 
annoying  and  inveterate  description,  than  what  is 
commonly  called  a  cold  in  the  head. 

What  I  wish  is,  for  a  general  opinion,  what  mode 
would  be  best  for  me  to  pursue  ;  especially,  such  an 
opinion  as  would  enable  me  to  arrange  with  the 
Archbishop  respecting  my  absence,  if  it  be  needful. 

If  you  could  conveniently  see  Dr.  P,,  on  the  receipt 
of  this,  so  as  to  answer  by  return  of  post,  it  would  be 
a  great  convenience  ;  as  I  wish  to  have  both  his  opi¬ 
nion,  and  yours,  to  lay  before  his  Grace,  previous  to 
his  departure  :  or  even,  could  you  write  on  Saturday, 
I  might  have  your  letter  to  show  him  on  Sunday 
night.  He  sets  off  early  on  Monday. 

If  a  migration  is  recommended,  I  have  thoughts 
of  first  visiting  J.  D.  ;  then,  B.,  if  the  family  could 
receive  me  without  inconvenience  ;  then,  my  brother, 
at  Richmond,  and  the  Heylands*,  in  the  county  of 
Dublin.  England,  I  do  not  think  would  be  within 
the  reach  of  my  purse  this  year. 

Mr.  M.  is  with  me,  so  I  must  conclude. 

Believe  me,  dear  Sir, 

Very  truly  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


*  Rowley  Heyland,  Esq.,  the  Bishop’s  brother-in-law. 


268 


LETTER  XLIII. 

To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Oct.  4.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

When  I  left  your  room  on  Wednesday,  with  a  full 
heart,  much  more  rushed  into  my  thoughts  than  I 
could  give  utterance  to  ;  and,  as  I  passed  along  in 
the  carriage,  I  had  many  feelings,  which,  notwith¬ 
standing  the  weakness  that  unavoidably  mingled  with 
them,  I  should  be  sorry  ever  wholly  to  part  with. 
Time  has  since  been  given,  for  calm  and  sober 
thought ;  and  I  am,  therefore,  now  able  to  state,  as 
well  from  rational  conviction,  as  from  actual  feeling, 
that  I  never,  till  this  last  visit,  had  a  full  opportunity 
of  knowing  the  value  of  your  friendship.  Your  wise 
and  good  advice  ;  your  calm  forbearance,  under  vari¬ 
ous  impertinences,  more  I  trust  the  result  of  malady, 
than  of  any  inveterate  mental  warp  ;  your  minute 
consideration  for  me,  in  many  little  points,  which  I 
could  not,  or  would  not,  consider  for  myself :  these, 
altogether,  have  cemented  my  regard  for  you  into  a 
feeling,  for  which  I  cannot  find  a  name;  but,  which  I 
know,  I  have  not  towards  any  other  human  being  ; 
and  were  this  the  only  effect  produced,  it  would, 
surely,  be  very  cheaply  purchased,  by  a  two  months’ 
absence  from  my  duties  at  Cashel.  But  this  is  not 
all.  I  do  firmly  believe,  that  I  have  got  hold  of  your 
whole  system ;  so  as,  at  once,  to  understand,  and  to 
love  it ;  but,  indeed,  can  it  be  understood,  without 
being  loved?  Sed  virtus  conspiceretur  oculis.  The 


269 


love  of  it,  however,  is  not  of  the  frothy,  foaming 
kind:  if  I  at  all  know  myself,  it  is  sedate  and  steady  ; 
capable  of  rational  explanation  ;  and,  I  trust,  founded 
on  some  incipient  experience  that  our  schemes  are 
not  theoretical,  but  substantial,  practical,  and  divinely 
influential.  The  fact  is,  that  our  system  addresses 
itself  to  man’s  real  faculties,  as  distinct  from  those 
shadowy,  fictitious,  imaginative  powers,  which  too 
many,  indeed  almost  all,  the  theologians  in  the  world, 
are,  one  way  or  other,  employing  in  the  manufacture 
of  images,  which  they  may  fall  down  and  worship. 
Our  objects,  have  their  archetypes  in  nature ;  and 
their  correspondent  analogies,  in  the  whole  system  of 
God’s  providential,  moral,  physical,  intellectual,  and 
spiritual  government;  whilst  the  objects  of  most  others 
are  mere  entia,  (pavracriag ,  resembling  nothing  in 
heaven  above,  or  earth  beneath ;  and  which,  conse¬ 
quently,  though  they  may  afford  matter  to  talk  of,  and 
argue  about,  can  neither  be  substantiated  by  sound 
reasoning,  nor  illustrated  by  matter  of  fact.  It  is 
curious  to  observe,  how  fond  people  are  of  disport¬ 
ing  themselves  in  a  sort  of  moral  moonshine ;  which 
has  just  sufficient  light  to  lead  them  astray,  without 
possessing  either  penetration,  force,  or  vital  warmth. 
Happy  it  is  that  there  is  another  kind  of  theological 
system  ;  and  most  happy  are  they,  who  are  led  cor¬ 
dially  to  embrace  it.  To  them,  God  is  not  only  a 
shield,' but  a  sun  ;  and  every  object  which  they  view, 
is  gilt  by  the  rays  of  his  divine  benignity  ;  while  they 
feel  within,  a  steady,  and  equable  ardour  of  devotion, 
which,  of  itself,  evinces  its  heavenly  origin.  Occa¬ 
sional  obscurations,  indeed,  I  do  suppose,  are  the 
inevitable  lot  of  humanity  ;  but  may  it  not  be  hoped, 
that,  as  we  advance,  these  will  gradually  become  less 


270 


frequent,  and  more  transient,  so  as  to  resemble  the 
light  clouds  of  a  summer  day  ? 

I  find  that  I  have  run  on,  I  fear  almost  into  rhap¬ 
sody  ;  but  my  pen  has  been  seized  with  a  fit  of 
fluency,  which  to  me  is  a  novelty  ;  and  rather  than 
check  it,  I  am  willing  to  trust  to  a  quality,  which  I 
have  already  tried  in  you  times  without  number, 
namely,  your  patience. 

And  now,  that  I  may,  in  some  sort,  endeavour 
to  indemnify  you,  I  shall  quote  for  you  a  passage 
from  a  preface  to  a  work,  which  I  picked  up  in 
town,  and  have  been  delighted  with,  since  reach¬ 
ing  home  .  .  Petri  Poiret  Bibliotheca  Mysticorum . 
He  says,  4  Non  semel  monui  atque  explicui  duorum 
generum  esse  in  nobis  facilitates  pro  objectis  qui- 
busvis,  sive  spiritualibus,  sive  corporeis ;  facultates 
videlicet  reales,  quae  objectum  ipsum  ejusque  veris- 
sima  influvia  (ut  sic  dicam)  reipsa  suscipiunt. 
Deinde  facultates  umbratiles,  quae,  absente  objecto, 
ejusque  influviis  remotis,  ideas  imaginesve  horum  sus¬ 
cipiunt  solas,  imo  et  fabricant.  Hanc  facultatem 
rationis  humanae  esse  ostendi,  quam  et  propterea 
cum  ejus  actibus  et  exercitio,  vocavi  activam  ;  illas 
vero  passivas,  utpote  quae  non  efficiant  objecta 
sua  eorumve  influvia  viva,  sed  patiantur  ea  ac  re¬ 
cipient  ;  quales  vero  facultates,  pro  spiritualibus 
objectis  sunt  desiderium  sive  fames  quaedam  animae 
intima,  atque  eadem  immensa,  item  et  intellectus 
passionis,  oculus  animae  spiritualis  (in  quibus  fidei 
sedes  est),  multique  deinde  spiritualiores  in  intimis 
sensus  a  Deo,  divinis  eorumque  effluentiis  realiter, 
vive,  solide  affici  idonei :  qnando  contra ,  anima  a 
rationis  ideis  affecta  superjiciarie ,  umbratiliter, 
mortuo  modo  ac  evanido  prorsusque  picto  afficitur 


271 


solum ,  siquidem  ipscemet  idea?  picture  duntaocat  qua ?- 
dam  mortuce  sunt  ac  steriles ,  et  prorsus  evanid^e.’  # 

Does  not  this  passage,  and  especially  the  part  of  it 
that  I  have  marked  emphatically,  furnish  a  wonderful 

comment  on  what  we  witnessed  at - ?  Have  we 

not  here,  totidem  literis,  our  friend's  pictures  ?  And 
could  there  be  a  more  faithful  description  of  that 
self-deceptious,  rationalizing  system,  whose  evil  in¬ 
fluences  we  so  entirely  agree  in  lamenting  ?  I  can¬ 
not  resist  my  inclination  to  transcribe  another  portion 
of  this  remarkable  preface. 

‘  Male  pergunt  multi  qui  bene  inceperant,  at  quanto 
magis  qui  non  satis  bene  inceperant.  Non  bene  satis 
inceperant  qui  pro  scopo  habent  acquirere  ideas  ac 
cognitiones  rerum  spiritualium,  uti  illas  sciant,  invo- 
cato  etiam  ad  hoc  divino  auxilio.  Melius  incipiunt, 
qui  pro  scopo  habent  ipsum  quasrere  Deum,  ej usque 
operationes  vivificas  et  reales,  ut  cum  ipsis  tandem 
mirantur :  qui  tamen,  cum  infirmi  sint  adhuc,  ac 
captus  crassioris,  adhibent  simul,  uti  subsidia  qusedam, 

*  I  have  often  taught  and  shown,  that  we  possess  two  distinct  sorts  of  facul¬ 
ties,  adapted  to  all  kinds  of  objects,  whether  spiritual,  or  corporeal ;  namely, 
real  faculties,  which  actually  receive  the  object  itself,  and  its  veritable  effluences 
(if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression),  and  umbratile,  or  unreal  faculties,  which, 
in  the  absence  both  of  the  object,  and  of  its  effluences,  receive  their  ideas  or  images 
only,  and  sometimes  fabricate  these  images  or  ideas.  I  have  shown  it  to  be  the 
province  of  human  reason  to  cultivate  this  latter  faculty,  which,  therefore,  toge¬ 
ther  with  its  acts  and  exercise,  I  have  denominated  active  ;  but  the  faculties  of 
the  former  class,  passive,  because  they  do  not  form,  or  give  vitality  to  their  proper 
objects,  or  the  effluences  of  those  objects,  but  passively  receive  them  ;  —  which 
faculties,  with  reference  to  spiritual  objects,  are,  appetency,  or  a  certain  inborn  and 
insatiable  hunger  of  the  soul,  —  passive  intellect,  the  eye  of  the  spiritual  mind, — • 
(in  which  two  faculties  is  the  proper  seat  of  faith,)  and,  together  with  these,  more¬ 
over,  many  purely  spiritual  senses,  the  gifts  of  God  to  the  inner  man ;  and  fitted 
to  be  really,  vividly,  and  solidly  affected,  by  the  divine  effluences  of  their  proper  ob¬ 
jects  :  while,  on  the  contrary,  the  soul,  when  affected  by  those  abstract  ideas,  which 
are  the  offspring  of  mere  reason,  is  affected  only  superficially,  unreally,  and  in  a 
dead,  evanescent,  and,  in  a  word,  pictorial  manner;  since,  after  all,  ideas  them, 
selves  are  nothing  more/than  certain  dead,  barren,  and,  moreover,  fading  pictures . 


272 


non  res  tantummodo  aliquas  externas,  sed  et  ipsius 
rationis  suae  ideas  atque  industriam,  occupando  illam 
quanto  fieri  potest  circa  spiritualia  objecta  sibi  idea- 
liter  representanda,  adjunctis  simul  desiderii  sinceri  ad 
Deum  precibus,  uti  realitatem  ille  ipsam,  divinasque 
sui  effluentias  non  rationi  modo,  sed  cordi,  et  intel- 
lectui  passivo,  et  totis  intimis  nostris  benigne  largiatur. 
Quo  vero  in  exercitio  facultatum  realium  et  umbra- 
tilium  simul,  si  se  illi  gerant  ita  ut  potiores  partes 
tribuunt  rationi,  earn  magis  circa  ideo  per  ratiocinia 
exercendo,  quam  cor,  intellectum,  desideria  intimaque 
omnia,  Deo  ejusque  operationibus  ardentius  et  smpius 
ofFerendo  ;  tunc,  vel  nil  promovebunt  omnino,  vel 
facilitate  ideali  activaque  superiores  partes  tandem 
obtinente,  degenerabunt  in  ideales,  superficiarios,  &c. 

«  At  si,  in  facultatibus  realibus  exercendis  Deoque 
offerendis  sese  magis  ac  magis  exerceant,  quam  in 
sonitandis,  discutiendisque  rerum  divinarum  activi- 
tate  rationis  sum  ideis  ;  si  circa  has,  earumque  partes, 
casus,  difficultates  ratiocionibus  examinandas  atque 
perpendendas  se  indies  minus  minusque  occupent, 
ut  ex  occasione  eorum  quae  velut  prmcipua  iis  reprrn- 
sentantur,  ad  Deum  elevent  solidum  ilium  suum  et 
sincerum  mentis,  facultatumque  realium  etintimarum 
fervidum  (quern  Petrus  ry]v  y  fiiavoioiv  nominat . . 

2  Pet.  iii.  1.)  turn  vero  versantur  tutius  in  recta  pro- 
ficiendi  via,  in  qua,  ubi  Deus  eorum  sinceritatem  ac 
perseverantiam  satis  exploraverit,  auxilium  procul- 
dubio  mittet  suum,  lucis  sum,  sapientimque  divinm 
participationem  aliquam,  qum  rationis  activitatem 
corruptam,  ejusque  imperfectas  et  umbratiles  ideas 
magis  magisque  supprimat,  ipsa  agentis  dirigentisque 
partes  suscipiente  et  hominis  animam  prmparante  ad 
receptionem  magni  et  adorandi  Hospitis  illius,  qui 


dixit  ipsemet,  Ego  et  Pater,  ad  eum  veniemus,  et 
mansionem  cum  eo  faciemusd # 

I  am  particularly  pleased  with  his  distinction,  ot‘ 
active,  and  passive  intellect.  Does  not  this  latter 
seem  to  identify  with  that  child-like  temper,  or  habit 
of  mind,  which  our  Saviour  has  pronounced  a  neces¬ 
sary  qualification,  for  his  spiritual  kingdom  ?  And, 


*  Many  go  on  ill,  who  had  begun  well ;  how  much  more,  then,  they,  who 
have  not  begun  sufficiently  well.  They  have  not  begun  sufficiently  well,  who 
aim  only  to  acquire  the  ideas  and  convictions  of  things  spiritual,  to  the  end  that 
they  may  understand  them  ;  even  although  they  may  invoke,  with  this  view,  the 
divine  aid.  They  begin  better,  who  have  for  their  aim,  to  seek  after  God  himself, 
and  his  real,  and  vivifying  operations  in  the  soul,  to  the  end  that  they  may  be¬ 
come,  at  length,  captivated  with  these  ;  but  who,  notwithstanding,  conscious 
that  they  are  but  weak,  and  dull  of  apprehension,  employ,  at  the  same  time,  cer¬ 
tain  helps,  drawn  not  only  from  external  objects,  but  from  the  ideas  and  exercises 
of  their  own  reason,  by  occupying  this,  as  much  as  possible,  in  the  ideal  repre¬ 
sentation  of  spiritual  objects ;  accompanying  their  efforts  with  earnest  prayers  to 
Almighty  God,  that,  of  his  benignity,  he  will  abundantly  grant  his  real  pre¬ 
sence,  and  divine  effluences,  not  to  the  reasoning  powers  only,  but  to  the  heart 
and  passive  intellect,  and  to  the  whole  inner  man.  In  which  joint  exercise  of 
the  real,  and  the  unreal  faculties,  if  they  are  led  to  give  the  preference  to  reason, 
by  exercising  it  upon  ratiocinative  subjects,  rather  than  by  an  ardent,  and  re¬ 
peated  tender  of  the  heart,  the  understanding,  and  all  the  inmost  desires  to  God, 
and  to  his  operations,  —  then,  either  they  will  profit  nothing  by  their  labour,  or 
eke,  the  ideal  and  active  faculties  gaining  the  ascendency  over  their  higher  na¬ 
ture,  they  will  degenerate  into  mere  idealists,  and  builders  of  castles  in  the  air. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  they  exercise  themselves,  more  and  more,  in  the  cultivation 
of  their  real  faculties,  and  in  the  surrender  of  themselves  unto  God,  rather  than 
in  high-sounding  discussions  about  the  abstract  ideas  of  divine  things,  the  growth 
of  an  over-active  exercise  of  their  reason,  —  if  they  occupy  themselves  daily  less 
and  less,  about  examining  and  weighing  these  ideas,  their  parts,  casualties,  com¬ 
plexities,  by  the  light  of  ratiocination,  — in  order  that,  taking  occasion  from  those 
faculties  which  are  represented  to  them  as  their  chief  prerogatives,  they  may  ele¬ 
vate  to  the  contemplation  of  God  that  solid,  sincere,  and  fervid  energy  of  the 
mind,  and  of  the  real  and  interior  faculties,  which  Saint  Peter  terms  (II  Pet. 
iii.  i.)  ‘  a  pure  mind;’  —  then,  truly,  do  they  become  more  safely  conversant  in 
the  right  way  of  making  proficiency  in  walking  ;  wherein,  when  God  shall  have 
sufficiently  scrutinized  their  sincerity  and  perseverance,  he  will  doubtless  vouch¬ 
safe  his  aid,  and  some  participation  of  his  light,  and  of  divine  wisdom,  —  which 
will,  more  and  more,  suppress  the  corrupt  activity  of  reason,  and  its  imperfect 
and  umbratile  ideas,  —  assuming  to  itself  the  offices  of  agent  and  directress,  and 
preparing  the  soul  of  man  for  the  meet  reception  of  that  great  and  adorable  guest, 
who  himself  hath  said,  ‘  I  and  my  Father  will  come  to  him  ;  and  we  will  make 
our  abode  with  him.’ 


VOL.  I. 


T 


if  these  things  be  as  Poiret  represents  them,  must  we 
not  pronounce  that  divines  are,  too  commonly,  walk¬ 
ing  in  a  vain  shadow,  and  disquieting  themselves  in 
vain?  Not,  however,  I  am  convinced,  in  vain,  with 
respect  to  the  final  developement  of  divine  truth  in 
the  world  ;  for  truly,  every  erroneous  system,  and 
even  every  erroneous  system-monger,  contributes  a 
quota  towards  that  analogical,  or  comparative  theo¬ 
logy,  which  we  are  so  fond  of.  And,  besides,  when 
we  consider  the  various  ways,  in  which  men  may 
and  do  go  wrong,  it  is  matter  of  deep  and  humble 
thankfulness,  that  we  have  been  led  to  views,  which, 
the  more  they  are  scrutinized,  the  more  conformable 
will  they  appear  to  scripture,  to  nature,  and  to  im¬ 
mutable  fitness. 

I  have  now  only  to  request  that  you  will  give  my 
kindest  compliments  to  Miss  Fergusson.  It  will  not 
be  easy  to  forget  the  good  treatment  I  met  with, 
under  her  hospitable  roof ;  or  the  unaffected,  but 
cordial  attention,  which  she  had  the  goodness  to  show 
me.  It  was  not  without  its  share,  in  producing  that 
ease  and  quietness  within  me  which  I  feel,  in  spite  of 
a  cold  contracted  on  the  road  ;  and  which  gives  me 
cause  to  hope,  that  I  shall  be  enabled  to  pursue  my 
reading  and  writing,  this  winter,  with  renewed  ala¬ 
crity.  I  rather  feel  a  desire  for  sermon-making  ;  and 
if  health  permits,  I  shall  try  to-morrow  to  make  an 
incision  in  the  visitation  discourse. 

i 

Recollect  how  much  I  love  to  hear  from  you, 

And  believe  me,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  most  grateful  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  XLIV. 


To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 

Cashel,  Oct.  17.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  seize  half  an  hour’s  respite  from  the  bustle  of  our 
visitation  (having  been,  as  you  may  suppose,  in  a 
crowd  all  yesterday,  and  having  been  levied,  from  7 
o’clock  this  morning,  by  various  friends,)  to  let  you 
know,  that  my  troubles  have  terminated,  in  a  manner 
far  beyond  my  expectation.  At  the  beginning  of 
last  week,  I  was  incapacitated  from  all  exertion,  by 
attacks,  half  nervous,  half  bilious.  On  friday  and 
Saturday  I  was  able  to  work  to  my  satisfaction,  though 
the  toothache  reinforced  the  enemy  ;  but  this  last  of 
the  confederates  kept  me  awake,  all  Sunday  night. 

Monday  I  got  the  tooth  drawn,  and  the  effect  of 
the  violent  pain,  coming  along  with  feverishness  from 
want  of  rest,  and  biliousness,  threw  me  into  a  fainting 
fit.  All  that  day  I  kept  my  bed,  wonderfully  weak 
but  pretty  easy.  Tuesday  or  Wednesday,  though  weak 
with  headaching,  I  was  enabled  to  work  with  com¬ 
fort  ;  and  yesterday  I  got  over  matters,  as  I  said,  far 
beyond  my  expectation.  This  journal,  to  another, 
would  become  tiresome  and  impertinent ;  but  I  think 
it  will  not  be  wholly  without  interest  to  you. 

The  Archbishop  thanked  me  publicly,  before  the 
clergy,  for  what  he  was  pleased  to  call,  ‘  the  best 
sermon  he  had  ever  heard,  whether  at  a  visitation,  or 
on  any  occasion  whatsoever ;  and  expressed  his  strong 
wish,  in  which  he  was  sure  the  clergy  would  join, 


that  it  should  not  be  confined  to  those  who  heard  it, 
but  that  I  should  make  it  public.’  The  clergy  joined 
in  the  request  and  .  .  Ecce  iterum  Crispinus ! 

How  far  the  Archbishop  was  right,  I  cannot  pre¬ 
sume  to  judge.  You  will  be  able  to  draw  your  own 
conclusion,  when  I  send  the  sermon  to  you.  I  stand 
amazed,  however,  at  the  general  acceptance  it  has 
met :  the  clergy  unanimously  and  cordially  approve  ; 
and  yet  it  unequivocally  puts  forward,  some  of  the 
very  deepest  truths  of  our  system.  I  am  happy  in 
feeling  that  this  has  not  been  my  own  doing.  Under 
such  illness,  I  could  not  have  so  written  ;  and  I  must, 
therefore,  be  enthusiastic  enough  to  conclude,  that  I 
was  borne  through  by  a  higher  hand.  I  was  even 
enabled  to  deliver  it  above  myself,  as  Forster*  tells 
me,  who  heard  me  preach  for  the  orphans.  My 
feelings,  on  this  matter,  are  such  as  I  cannot  describe. 
I  hope  and  trust,  they  are  neither  vain,  nor  selfish ; 
for  I  verily  believe  that  the  work  is  not  mine ;  and  I 
rejoice  more,  in  the  success  of  our  cause,  than  of 
myself.  I  shall  soon  write,  and  send  the  sermon 
prepared  for  the  press;  and  shall  beg  of  you  to  put 
it  into  Watson’s  hands,  having  first  corrected  it. 

Believe  me,  your  most  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


*  The  late  Rev.  George  Forster,  afterwards  rector  of  Thurles. 


LETTER  39. 


To  the  Rev .  /.  Jehh. 


Oct.  20.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

John  Torrens’  account  of  your  sermon  yesterday, 
enlarged  upon  most  satisfactorily  in  your  letter  of 
to-day,  has  given  me  cordial  gratification.  I  reckoned 
on  something  good  and  comfortable  :  but,  I  own, 
the  event  has  exceeded  my  calculation.  I  believe 
you  view  it  exactly  as  you  ought  to  do  ;  and  I  trust 
it  is  but  the  first-fruits  of  a  harvest  of  consolation. 
I  shall  have  real  pleasure  in  attending  to  the  pub¬ 
lication  ;  and  will  do  what  I  can  to  expedite  it ; 
knowing,  from  experience,  that  printers  are  a  species 
of  creatures  that  need  the  spur,  as  much,  almost,  as 
an  ill-conditioned  horse.  I  shall  be  ready,  however, 
to  retract  my  censure,  if  they  go  on  jugiter  with  me, 
on  this  approaching  occasion. 

Have  you  yet  sat  down  to  the  oct.  edit,  of  Cowper’s 
Life  ?  if  you  have  not,  take  to  it ;  as  I  do  think 
Cowper’s  letters,  as  far  as  I  have  gone,  (which  is  as 
yet  but  half  way  through  the  2d  vol.)  are  wonder¬ 
fully  interesting.  The  difference,  between  the  letters 
written  to  Mr.  Newton,  and  to  his  friend  Unwin,  is 
particularly  striking.  There  is  regard  and  estimation 
in  the  one :  there  is  friendship,  genuine  and  vivid,  in 
the  other.  In  fact,  I  suppose  there  are  not  in  the 
world,  letters  equal  in  merit,  as  compositions,  to  those 
of  Cowper  to  Unwin.  When  I  read  to  you  what  I 

t  3 


/ 


278 


had  written,  in  the  commencement  of  my  review,  re¬ 
specting  Lady  Austin  and  Mrs.  Unwin,  you  thought 
me  rather  severe  on  the  former.  My  continuous 
reading  of  Cowper’s  life  does  not  lead  me  to  entertain 
the  idea.  I  rather  have  a  severer  idea  of  Lady  A., 
than  I  should  wi&h  to  put  into  writing  for  publica¬ 
tion.  I  almost  suspect,  she  was  a  very  artful  woman. 
But  I  need  not  enlarge.  I  wish  you  only  to  read 
the  book  continuously,  if  you  have  not  read  it  yet ; 
and  tell  me  what  occurs  to  you. 

I  should,  probably,  have  been  a  little  advanced  in 
that  review,  had  I  not  been  diverted  to  another  sub¬ 
ject.  I  have,  this  day,  been  copying  a  letter  to  the 
Christian  Observer ;  which,  probably,  will  require 
three  days  to  transcribe.  It  contains  remarks  on 
what  is  said  in  the  paragraph  that  begins  on  the  2d 
column  of  the  529th  page :  you  will  probably  guess, 
on  reading,  why  I  animadvert  on  it. 

When  you  send  me  your  sermon,  put  up  with  it 
the  one  I  gave  you,  on  your  going  away :  as  I  have 
an  inclination  to  read  it  over  again.  I  know  not  how 
it  is,  whether  with,  or  without  reason,  but  I  am  im¬ 
pressed  as  if  my  faculty  of  writing  were  diminished. 
I  have  nearly  as  much  clearness  and  copiousness : 
but  I  feel  as  if  I  had  less  energy.  It  will  comfort 
me  against  this,  even  were  it  to  prove  a  reality,  to 
see  you  grow,  as  I  decline.  I  could  add  many 
things,  but  the  post  will  not  wait  for  me  ;  therefore, 
I  must  be  content  to  tell  you,  that  I  am 

Ever  yours, 


A.  K, 


279 


LETTER  XLV. 

To  A .  Knox ,  ivsy. 

Cashel,  Oct.  2.5.  1806. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  send  you  my  little  sermon,  and  your  very  good 
one  along  with  it :  and  believe  me,  while  you  can 
write  such,  you  need  entertain  no  manner  of  appre¬ 
hension,  that  your  talent  for  composition  is  leaving 
you.  With  respect  to  what  you  say  of  energy,  any 
apparent  declension,  may  arise  from  the  accidental 
circumstances  of  ill  health;  or,  very  possibly,  it  may 
proceed,  from  having  the  mind  so  full  of  matter,  so 
desirous  of  not  letting  any  important  truth  escape, 
that  there  is  a  comparative  negligence,  as  to  manner. 
I  believe,  among  writers  in  general,  it  will  be  found, 
that  the  anxiety  about  mere  style,  is  inversely  as  to 
the  quantum  of  solid,  and  substantial  ideas,  with 
which  the  mind  is  stored. 

The  Archbishop  has  asked  me  two  or  three  times, 
with  evident  interest,  whether  it  would  be  possible 
to  prevail  on  you  to  make  a  visit  here.  I  heartily 
wish  it  could ;  for  good  might  be  done.  I  am  per¬ 
suaded  that - is  in  a  happier  frame  of  mind,' 

than  he  ever  was  before  in  the  whole  course  of  his 
life,  tie  has  most  happily  gained  ground,  in  resigna¬ 
tion  to  the  divine  will ;  in  quietness,  under  circum¬ 
stances  that  could,  once,  have  fretted  and  perplexed 
him  ;  in  a  relish  for  domestic  life,  and  a  disrelish  for 
mixing  much  in  the  common  society  in  the  world ; 

t  4 


280 


and  in  that  which  is  the  fountain  and  source  of  all  the 
rest,  a  spirit  of  prayer.  These  things  being  so,  I  do 
think  you  have  a  call  to  come  here,  if,  (which  how 
much  I  hope  it,  you  will  conceive,)  your  health  per¬ 
mits.  - ,  too,  would  be  delighted  to  see  you. 

#  #  #  #  # 


# 


# 


* 


* 


# 


# 


* 


My  judgment  of  the  sermon  I  send,  is,  that  it 
has  neither  brilliancy,  nor  eloquence  ;  but  that  it 
announces  some  very  radical  truths,  with  tolerable 
clearness  and  succinctness ;  and  in  a  manner  not 
likely  to  alarm  the  anti-fanatics.  The  arrangement, 
X  conceive  to  be  good,  and  pretty  well  followed  up ; 
and  all  the  subordinate  branches,  pretty  fairly  traced 
up  to  the  root.  You  will  perceive  that  I  had  in  view, 
your  thoughts  on  analogical  preaching;  presenting, 
as  well  as  I  could,  some  ramifications,  not  detached 
from  the  parent  stock.  After  all,  I  am  very  doubtful 
whether  it  will  please  in  the  closet,  as  much  as  it  did 
from  the  pulpit ;  for,  somehow  or  other,  I  was  so 
aided  that  day,  as  to  be,  at  once,  more  solemn,  and 
more  animated,  than  X  was  on  any  other  occasion. 

You  will  be  so  good  as  to  tell  Watson  to  employ 
Graisberry ;  as  he  did  the  last  little  sermon  complete 
typographical  justice.  You  will  see  two  or  three 
little  marginal  references  and  quotations ;  these, 
according  to  your  own  judgment,  you  will  either 
retain,  or  suppress.  I  own,  in  spite  of  Doctor  Stop- 
ford,  I  have  a  hankering  after  classical  illustration ; 
and  conceive  that  it  may  answer  two  useful  purposes  : 
1  st,  remove  the  idea  of  my  being  a  mere  religionist, 
i.  e.  a  fanatic ;  2d,  possibly  induce  young  divines,  to 


281 


read  the  authors  referred  to.  I  know,  a  striking 
quotation  from  the  philosophers,  or  poets,  wherever 
I  meet  it,  sends  me  to  my  book-shelves  ;  and  seldom 
have  I  cause  to  regret  being  thus  led  to  the  exem¬ 
plar  ia  grasca.  However,  as  I  said  before,  suppress, 
if  it  seem  right  to  you  to  do  so. 

I  propose  sending  the  title  page  early  in  the  week ; 
and  along  with  it,  a  brief  inscription  to  the  Arch¬ 
bishop  and  clergy  ;  which  Mr.  Graisberry  can  dress 
up  for  me  in  the  lapidary  style. 

The  best  mode  of  publishing  it  among  the  clergy 
of  these  parts,  would  be,  to  send  some  copies  to  a 
bookseller  in  each  of  the  following  towns  :  .  .  Cork, 
Waterford,  Limerick,  Clonmel. 

I  must  now  conclude.  It  is  10  o’clock  A.  M.,  and 
to-morrow’s  sermon  not  begun.  I  have  been  ill  this 
changeable  weather,  and  had  much  work  in  tran¬ 
scription  and  emendation. 

On  the  subject  of  your  letter  to  the  C.  O.,  I  cannot 
help  making  a  quotation  from  Nicole.  His  horror 
against  the  mysticism  of  the  quietists,  led  him  to 
adopt  the  very  opinions  you  are  combating.  ‘La 
r&gle  la  plus  sure,  que  l’on  puisse  suivre,  pour  6viter 
les  surprises,  et  a  laquelle  ceux  meme  qui  ont,  ou 
qui  s’imaginent  avoir,  quelque  chose  d’ extraordinaire, 
devroient  s’attacher,  est  de  ne  juger  de  la  vertu  que 
par  les  actions  et  les  oeuvres,  et  non  par  tout  ce  qui 
se  passe  dans  1’esprit.’* 

I  have  a  good  deal  to  write  to  you,  at  a  more  con¬ 
venient  season,  about  the  filiation  of  English  plato¬ 
nism  ;  especially,  that  branch  of  it,  which  leans 
towards  mysticism  ;  and  a  very  noble  quotation  to 
send  you,  from  Cardinal  Petrucci,  whose  work  I  had 


*  Preface  de  la  priere. 


c28c2 

the  good  fortune  to  pick  up  at  Archer’s.  In  some 
parts,  it  must  be  confessed,  he  is,  what  I  would  join 
with  Dr.  Magee  in  calling,  transcendental ;  but,  in 
other  places,  he  has  the  true  philosophy  of  the  Gos¬ 
pel  ;  and,  throughout,  is  wonderfully  free  from  the 
peculiar  mischiefs  of  popery.  Certainly,  the  mystics 
are  the  most  catholic  of  all  popish  writers.  The 
jansenists,  excellent  in  other  respects,  are  bigots  com¬ 
pared  to  them. 

The  mystics  spiritualized  so  much,  that  they  had 
little  relish  for  the  anthropomorphisms  of  the  church 
of  Rome. 

Your  most  affectionate  friend, 

J.  J. 


LETTER  40. 
To  the  Rev.  J .  Jebb . 


Monday,  Oct.  27.  1806’. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  am  in  possession  of  your  manuscript,  which  I  have 
read  over  with  sincere  pleasure.  It  seems,  really,  as 
if  your  mind  had  not  flagged  from  beginning  to  end. 
I  will  put  it  into  the  printer’s  hands  to-morrow  ;  and 
I  cannot  think  of  suppressing  one  of  your  quotations. 
I  feel  with  you  entirely  on  that  subject. 

I  suppose  Nicole  meant  to  combat,  something  dif¬ 
ferent  from  what  I  mean  to  maintain.  The  Roman 
catholic  pietism  had  a  very  methodistical  turn  ;  look¬ 
ing  for  raptures  and  illapses, .  ,  gushes  of  joy  which, 


283 


possibly,  could  not  be  analyzed.  I  leave  every  thing 
of  this  kind  to  itself:  and  contend  merely  for  the 
happiness  of  loving  God,  and  of  exercising  that  love 
in  devotional  intercourse  with  him  :  happiness,  not 
merely  in  the  good  effects  which  these  habits  produce, 
but  in  the  sweet,  rational,  self-complacential,  yea, 
direct,  disinterested,  delight,  which  they  involve. 
To  these  sensations,  I  think  religion  owes  its  energy. 
We  are  made  to  love  pleasure  :  and  it  is  in  virtue  of 
a  delectatio  victrix,  that  Christianity  makes  us  its  own. 
There  may  be  sincere  servants  without  this  ;  but,  as 
you  show,  it  is  love,  which,  alone,  gives  liberty  and 
power.  These  principles,  the  C.  O.,  I  conceive,  does 
not  enough  attend  to  ;  and  even  Nicole’s  language 
overlooked  them.  I  conceive  they  cannot  be  too 
much  dwelt  upon,  if  they  are  dwelt  upon  soberly. 

But  to  return  a  moment  to  your  sermon.  What 
peculiarly  gratifies  me  in  it,  is,  progress.  If  you  wrote 
thus,  under  much  morbid  pressure,  you  will  write 
much  better  still,  when  that  pressure  is  removed.  In 
fact,  I  am  full  of  hope  about  you. 


LETTER  XLYI. 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq. 

Oct.  31.  1 806." 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  most  cordially  thank  you,  for  your  minute  attention 
to  my  sermon,  and  for  your  valuable  criticisms.  I 
readily  adopt  them  all,  with  the  exception  I  stated  in 
my  last  letter,  and  another  that  I  must  now  make. 


1  rather  wish  that  the  cancelled  clause,  ‘of  gentle¬ 
ness  in  manner,  and  firmness  in  act,’  should  be  re¬ 
stored  :  for,  I  candidly  own,  the  objections  you  urge, 
fail  to  produce  conviction  in  my  mind.  Possibly, 
however,  the  objection  which  remains  unstated  may 
be  very  strong  ;  and,  then,  I  should  not  have  so  much 
firmness  and  decision,  as  to  oppose  you  ;  though, 
perhaps,  I  may  forfeit  the  praise  of  prudence  and 
gentleness,  by  the  battle  I  am  making.  I  conceive 
the  obnoxious  clause  is  by  no  means  expletory,  but 
adds,  substantially,  to  the  idea  of  prudence  and  de¬ 
cision  ;  gentleness,  being  more  of  a  moral  quality, 
than  prudence  ;  and  firmness  in  act,  not  being,  like 
decision,  confined  to  the  scire  and  the  velle,  but,  evi¬ 
dently,  including  the  posse.  The  clause,  as  you 
justly  observe,  is  obviously  proverbial;  but  I  do  not 
see  that  it  is,  therefore,  necessarily  quaint ;  and  I  am 
rather  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  naturalizing  a 
good  aphorism ;  which  I  do  not  recollect  having 
ever  met,  in  any  other  than  a  foreign  garb.  But  I 
have  another  reason  for  wishing  to  retain  it,  partly 
rhythmical,  and  partly  philological.  The  period,  as 
it  stands  in  my  MS.,  has  a  fulness,  which  it  wants, 
as  abridged  by  you  ;  and  I  candidly  own,  that,  in  its 
curtailed  form,  there  appears  to  me  a  disagreeable 
leanness  and  tameness.  But,  besides,  the  ‘  above 
all/  in  the  next  sentence,  requires  to  be  ushered  in, 
by  a  fuller  enumeration  of  particulars  than  you  would 
leave ;  and  I  do  not  think  I  can  well  spare  my 
‘  gentleness  and  firmness/  though  they  were  to  be 
retained  only  as  running  footmen,  to  the  more  im¬ 
portant  personages  that  follow.  Still,  however,  your 
unpleaded  reason  may  be  strong.  Yet,  not  even  a 
surmise  that  it  is  one,  which  has  some  personal  bear¬ 
ing  as  to  myself,  inclines  me  to  give  up  the  little 


28.5 


clause :  the  upshot  of  the  whole,  therefore,  is,  that, 
according  to  your  judgment,  you  will  act  for  the 
best.  It  is  very  far  from  my  wish  to  be  pugnacious  ; 
all  the  rest  of  your  criticisms  I  cordially  approve  ; 
but,  when  I  am  not  convinced,  I  think  it  right  to  say 
the  truth. 

Omit,  if  your  private  reason  is  forcible,  and  I  will 
take  it  on  trust. 

The  note  about  4  Judgment  to  come,’  which  I  sent 
in  my  last,  was  most  hastily,  and  therefore,  I  fear, 
lamely  and  incorrectly  written.  I  have  no  copy  of  it 
by  me  ;  but  have  conned  it  over  again  in  my  mind, 
and  will  give  it  in  an  improved  form  on  the  other  side  ; 
so  that  you  may,  if  you  see  no  good  reason  to  the 
contrary,  send  it  to  the  press.  I  own  I  think  the 
quotation  ad  rem  ;  and  of  a  nature  which  one  would 
like  to  put  forward  in  these  times,  when  we  should 
accumulate  every  image,  from  every  quarter,  that 
may,  even  remotely,  tend  to  make  that  which  is  un¬ 
seen,  predominate  over  that  which  is  seen.  With 
this  view,  I  have  added  a  translation  for  English  rea¬ 
ders  ;  the  best  I  could  make,  but  a  very  poor  copy  of 
the  noble  original. 

I  hope  you  did  not  write  by  yesterday’s  post,  as 
our  mail  was  robbed  to-night.  Believe  me  your  most 
faithful  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 

Suppress  the  note  if  you  think  proper. 

Note.  —  It  may,  perhaps,  appear,  at  first  sight,  that  ‘  judgment 
to  come,’  is  not  strictly  4  a  topic  of  natural  religion  and  it  must 
be  acknowledged,  that  both  the  terrors  and  mercies  of  that  day  are 
adequately  declared  in  the  gospel  alone.  Still,  however,  we  have 
the  united  evidence  of  sages,  lawgivers,  and  poets,  to  convince 
us  that,  on  this  awful  subject,  wonderfully  just  and  sublime  views 


286 


presented  themselves  to  the  heathen  world.  One  specimen  from 
Diphilus,  or  Philemon,  for  the  author  is  not  fully  ascertained  *, 
may  prove  not  uninteresting.  It  is  preserved  by  Clemens  Alex- 
andrinus  .  .  Strom.,  lib.  v.  p.  721.  Edit.  Pott,  by  Justin  Martyr, 
also,  Eusebius,  and  Theodoret.  See  the  text  revised,  and  metri¬ 
cally  arranged,  in  the  Excerpta  of  Grotius. 

Oiei  xv  t ovg  ftoivovrag,  a  NivojpaTf, 

TpvQyg  aicocxrig  [xETaXu^ovTag  ev  (3ut) 

X\E(pvye.vou  to  Qeiov  u'g  XEXrjGoTag ; 

E<xriV  Siiojs  otpBccXfxog  og  roc.  i Ttxvtf  opa’ 

K cci  ya%  xaG’  eA§»jv  rgitovg  vopu^ousv, 

M lav  fiiHouav,  %’  ccTEpuv  axE^ccv  oSov. 

E i  yap  'biY.ouog  k’  axE^Yj q  e^ovxiv  ev, 

'H  yr\  5s  KocXvipEt  rovg  Svo  xa>  xtavri  Xpova, 

AptcoC^  ocitEXOcov,  vcXett,  aftoaTEpEi,  Yivna,’ 

M^Sev  7rXayvj0vj^*  extiv  vtav  *A5ov  y.pixig 
'HvT TEp  YtQlY\XEl  0£Of,  0  TfaVT&V  'bEXTtOTYig, 

COv  T  OVOfACX,  cpo^EfOV)  Ovh'  CCV  OVOjJLOXCUfjS  EJU’ 

‘O  t oiq  dy.apTccvovxi,  ntpoq  [jt.YjY.og,  fiiov 
A  iftaxi. 


Thinkest  thou,  Niceratus,  that  the  dead,  who  have  partaken 
every  luxury  in  life,  shall  escape  the  Deity,  as  it  were,  by 
stealth  ?  There  is  a  just  eye,  that  seeth  all  things.  We  believe, 
also,  that,  in  Hades,  are  two  paths  ;  the  way  of  the  righteous,  and 
the  way  of  the  wicked.  For,  if  the  righteous  and  the  wicked  are 
to  inhabit  a  common  abode,  if  the  earth  is  to  conceal  them  both 
for  ever,  then  go,  plunder,  steal,  defraud,  destroy.  But  be  not 
deceived.  There  is  a  judgment  even  in  Hades,  which  God  will 
execute,  the  Lord  of  all,  whose  dreadful  name  I  dare  not  utter ; 
who  giveth  to  the  trangressors  a  protracted  life  [[of  misery.] 


*  Whoever  be  the  author,  the  high  antiquity  of  the  passage  is  undoubted. 
Philemon  flourished  about  300  years  B.  C. ;  and  Diphilus  was  nearly  his  con¬ 
temporary. 


<287 


LETTER  XLVII. 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Nov.  10.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Though  I  cannot  fully  enter  into  all  you  said,  last 
Sunday  se’nnight,  about  abstraction,  and  metaphysic, 
I  cordially  agree  in  your  conclusion,  that  abstract 
ratiocination  might  as  well  warm  us,  by  bandying 
about  the  idea  of  a  fire,  as  make  us  good,  by  syllo¬ 
gizing  about  goodness.  And  here,  I  conceive,  lies 
the  main  difference,  between  the  aristotelic,  and  the 
platonic  philosophy  :  the  former,  frequently,  going  as 
far,  as  precise  definition,  accurate  discrimination,  and 
subtle  reasoning,  can  go ;  while  the  latter  has  a  cer¬ 
tain  nameless  charm,  which  makes  us  feel,  and  love 
virtue.  The  one  has  a  genial  warmth,  which  pene¬ 
trates  and  melts  our  hearts  ;  while  the  other  is  ‘  cold 
and  clear,’  like  Robinson’s  sharp  frosty  night. 

Dr.  Gillies,  Dr.  Enfield,  and  the  whole  corps  of 
rationalizing  utility  men,  are  drawn  up  in  battle  array, 
against  the  Alexandrine  school  of  platonists ;  whom 
they  pelt  with  pebbles,  stolen  from  the  German  ma¬ 
gazine  of  Brucker,  Mosheim,  &c.  For  I  am  con¬ 
vinced  they  have  never  read,  the  writings  of  the  men 
they  vilify.  In  these  days,  it  has  been  found  very 
easy,  to  procure  a  stock  of  second-hand  learning  ; 
and  dressing  it  up  with  some  terseness  and  flippancy, 
to  exhibit  it  most  ostentatiously,  to  the  bepuzzlement 
of  the  ignorant,  and  the  bedazzlement  of  the  supeiv 


288 


ficial.  If  you  wish  for  an  exhibition  of  this  nature, 
you  may  find  it  in  the  dissertations,  which  accompany 
Gillies’  Aristotle ;  who,  because  he  had  learning 
enough  to  translate  the  Nicomachian  Ethics,  conceives 
himself  entitled  to  malign  writers  whom,  as  I  said 
before,  I  am  sure  he  never  read.  If  we  are  to  be¬ 
lieve  his  account,  Plotinus  was  the  veriest  wronghead 
that  ever  breathed ;  an  arrogant,  self-sufficient,  fana¬ 
tical  declaimed  Whether  he  deserves  this  character, 
we  may  form  a  tolerable  judgment,  from  the  quota¬ 
tions  given  by  John  Smith :  but  some  continuous 
reading  of  his  own  original  work,  has  lately  raised 
him  highly  in  my  estimation.  In  parts,  indeed,  he 
takes  some  transcendental  flights  ;  but  even  when  he 
is  least  sound  and  sober,  we  discover  a  noble  prin¬ 
ciple  at  bottom  ;  which  he  that  reads  eclectically,  is 
able  to  separate,  from  the  excesses  to  which  it  is 
carried.  In  his  greek,  from  an  extreme  density,  and 
a  frequent  use  of  platonic  technicalities,  he  is  often 
‘  obscurorum  obscurissimus  and  his  translator  and 
commentator,  Ficinus,  is  himself  so  deeply  initiated 
in  those  Alexandrine  mysteries,  that  he  often  adds 
new  perplexities,  to  those  of  the  original.  Still,  how¬ 
ever,  I  do  not  mean  to  be  discouraged  from  digging 
in  that  mine,  which  was  explored  to  such  noble  pur¬ 
pose,  by  Cudworth,  Smith,  and  the  rest  of  our  beloved 
latitudinarians.  For,  I  verily  think,  making  every 
allowance  for  mysticism,  obscurity,  and  an  excess  of 
austere  discipline,  that  Plotinus  has  more  of  the 
QsostirjS  vovg,  than  any  of  the  heathens  I  have  yet 
looked  into :  and  in  this,  he,  assuredly,  excels  his 
master,  that  he  would  turn  with  abhorrence,  from  the 
impurities  tolerated,  in  Plato’s  fanciful  Republic. 

If  you  have  Plotinus,  I  could  be  glad  you  would 
direct  your  attention,  to  the  second  book  of  his  first 


289 


Ennead.  He  there  divides,  or  rather  distributes  vir¬ 
tue,  into  four  stages  of  progression.  1.  The  civil 
or  political.  2.  The  purgative.  8.  The  purified. 
4.  The  exemplary.  Beyond  the  first  and  lowest  of 
these  stages,  it  appears  to  me,  the  aristotelic  school, 
with  its  offset,  our  utility  men,  Watson,  Paley, 
Search,  &c.,  have  seldom,  if  ever,  advanced.  Along 
with  this,  which  occupies  only  a  few  pages,  should 
be  read,  Macrobius  in  Somn.  Scip.,  lib.  i.  cap.  8. 
This  is  a  very  brief,  animated,  and  satisfactory  abs¬ 
tract,  of  Plotinus’  scheme  ;  I  think  you  will  join  with 
me  in  admiring  it,  as  one  of  the  noblest  specimens 
extant  of  eclectic  philosophy :  carried  indeed  to  a 
greater  height,  than  mere  philosophy  ever  could 
arrive  at,  except  theoretically  ;  but  still,  exhibiting 
that,  which  should  be  the  object  of  every  Christian, 
that  which  Christians  are  divinely  enabled  to  attain. 
Whether  you  look  at  Plotinus  or  not,  do,  by  all 
means,  procure  Macrobius. 

I  have  been  just  reading,  and  with  deep  interest, 
the  6th  book  of  Plotinus’  1st  Ennead:  it  is  a  trea¬ 
tise  7 rsgi  xolXqu.  It  is  not  very  long  ;  and  many  of 
its  views,  wonderfully  harmonize  with  your  own. 
Perhaps,  a  little  specimen  of  it,  not  literally  translated, 
but,  I  believe,  pretty  fairly  represented,  may  interest, 
or  at  least  amuse  you.  He  resolves  corporeal  beauty, 
into  a  communication  of  reason  from  the  divine  arti¬ 
ficer  :  giving  shape,  order,  and  harmony,  to  that 
matter,  which  would,  otherwise,  be  shapeless  and 
deformed.  To  xcCKov  yiyvsrou  Xoyou  otto  Qeicov 

e^QovTog  xoivcovux.  Of  this  beauty,  we  judge,  by  com¬ 
paring  the  external  object,  with  a  certain  innate 
internal  formula,  which  is  the  pattern  of  the  beautiful : 
as  an  architect  judges  of  a  building,  by  its  conformity 
to  the  plan  in  his  own  mind ;  or,  as  a  good  man  is 

VOL.  i.  u 


290 


delighted  with  the  rudiments  of  truth  and  goodness 
in  a  promising  youth,  because  they  agree  with  the 
archetypal  picture  of  virtue  in  his  own  soul ;  or,  as 
sweet  sounds,  awaken  latent  harmonies  within  11s, 
and  thus  produce  a  vivid  idea  of  the  beautiful. 

Moral  beauty,  can  no  more  be  relished  by  an  im¬ 
pure  soul,  than  a  man  born  blind,  can  conceive  and 
describe  the  beauty  of  colours.  They,  cannot  do 
justice  to  the  brightness  of  virtue,  who  do  not 
internally  perceive,  how  beautiful  is  the  countenance 
of  righteousness  and  temperance,  so  that  the  evening 
or  morning  is  not  so  lovely  ;  and,  who  do  not  con¬ 
template  moral  excellence,  with  an  admiration  such 
as  the  beauties  of  nature  excite,  in  the  tasteful  eye. 
What,  says  he,  is  the  nature  of  your  feelings,  respect¬ 
ing  things  invisible,  when  you  contemplate  generous 
studies,  correct  manners,  chaste  morals,  virtuous 
habits ;  in  a  word,  the  beauty  of  the  soul  ?  What 
emotions,  what  transports !  How  ardently  do  you 
desire,  to  be  freed  from  every  bodily  incumbrance, 
to  commune  with  your  own  spirit !  It  is  thus  that 
true  lovers  are  affected.  And  what  is  it,  that  excites 
such  marvellous  affections?  It  is  not  form,  nor 
colour,  nor  magnitude  :  but  it  is  the  unembodied 
soul,  decked  with  no  other  ornaments,  than  simple 
modesty,  and  the  native  brilliancy  of  virtue.  It  is, 
when  you  behold,  either  in  yourselves  or  in  others, 
magnanimity,  firm  principle,  pure  chastity ;  manliness 
with  undaunted  countenance ;  seemliness  and  mo¬ 
desty,  with  intrepid  gait,  and  undisturbed  tranquil¬ 
lity  ;  and  a  deiform  mind,  shedding  its  lustre  over 
all  these  great  qualities  ;  eiri  rouroig  rov  S-sos/Stj 

VOW  ETTlKOLlKirOVTOL. 

He  had  before  stated,  that  the  best  mode  of 
arriving  at  the  true  nature  of  moral  beauty,  was,  to 


291 

lay  down  the  nature  of  its  opposite ;  and  I  think  you 
will  join  with  me,  that  his  description  of  a  base, 
degenerate  soul,  is  masterly. 

The  base  soul  is  intemperate,  unjust,  teeming  with 
desires,  overwhelmed  with  fears,  envious,  grovelling, 
mortal :  the  slave  of  impure  pleasures  ;  hurried  away 
by  the  impulse  of  animal  passions ;  accounting  tur¬ 
pitude,  enjoyment ,  a  turpitude,  which  insinuates 
itself  under  the  semblance  of  adventitious  good ; 
which  contaminates  the  soul ;  agglutinates  it  to  evil ; 
deprives  it  of  spiritual  life,  and  pure  perception ; 
mingles  it  with  manifold  death ;  precludes  it  from 
seeing  any  longer,  what  the  soul  ought  to  see ;  forces 
from  it  the  privilege  of  self-possession  ;  ever  dragging 
it  to  outer  and  infernal  darkness ;  tco  sXxsaSou  olsi 

7  t 

7Tp0g  TO  XOil  TO  TCOLTCOy  7COLI  TO  (TXOTEIVOV. 

He,  is  not  the  unhappy  man,  who  possesses  not 
those  objects,  which  are  beautiful  to  the  external 
senses ;  or  who  fails  to  obtain  power,  dominion,  or 
kingdom  :  but  he,  that  is  destitute  of  the  sole,  and 
single  possession,  for  which  universal  dominion,  the 
empire  of  earth,  and  sea,  and  heaven,  might  worthily 
be  rejected  and  contemned.  But,  by  what  dexterity 
of  contrivance,  can  we  gain  a  sight  of  this  inestimable 
beauty ;  which  remains  enshrined,  as  it  were,  in  a 
holy  sanctuary ;  and  never  comes  forth,  lest  profane 
eyes  should  behold  it  ?  Whosoever  can,  let  him  enter, 
and  proceed  to  the  inmost  recess :  leaving  behind 
him,  his  very  sense  of  common  vision ;  not  casting  a 
look  or  a  thought,  on  that  corporeal  beauty,  which 
before  enthralled  him ;  or,  if  he  do  meet  corporeal 
beauty,  let  him  consider,  that  it  is  but  the  image,  the 
outline,  the  shadow  of  substantial  good  :  and  let  him 
fly  to  the  (divine)  reality.  For,  if  he  pursue  any 
object  of  the  senses,  as  a  real  existence,  his  fate  will 

u  2 


<292 

resemble  that  of  the  victim  in  the  fable,  who,  reach¬ 
ing  after  a  beautiful  shadow  in  the  water,  plunged 
into  the  stream  ;  and  disappeared  for  ever.  It  being 
most  certain  that  he,  who  devotes  himself  to  mere 
corporeal  beauty,  plunges,  not  his  body,  but  his  soul, 
into  dark  and  dismal  depths ;  where  he  must  blindly 
wander,  conversing  only  with  shades,  whether  in 
Hades,  or  in  this  present  life.  Here,  then,  any  one 
may  cry,  (with  more  truth  and  justice,  than  Ulysses 
in  the  Odyssey,)  ‘  Let  us  fly  to  our  dear  country,’ 
Qsuycofjiev  (piXrjv  7rarp/&a.  But,  how  shall  we 
fly,  how  escape  the  magic  of  Circe,  or  Calypso  ? 
For  this  is  the  real  meaning  of  the  fable,  which 
represents  Ulysses  unwilling  to  remain,  though  soli¬ 
cited  by  every  thing,  that  could  enchant  his  eyes, 
or  fascinate  his  senses.  Our  country,  is  that,  from 
whence  we  originally  came ;  and  there,  we  have  a 
Father.  How,  then,  shall  we  escape?  Where  is 
our  fleet?  It  is  not  on  foot  we  are  to  go;  for  our 
feet  could  carry  us  only  from  one  part  of  this  earth 
to  another.  We  need  prepare,  neither  chariots,  nor 
ships :  by  laying  all  these  aside,  and  not  looking,  (to 
any  thing  earthly)  but  as  it  were,  closing  our  eyes, 
we  are  to  exercise  another  vision,  and  to  awaken 
higher  senses ;  which  all  possess,  but  few  employ. 

But  what  does  this  interior  eye  behold?  When  it 
is  first  awakened,  it  cannot  behold  objects  of  dazzling 
lustre  :  the  soul  is  therefore  to  be  gradually  advanced  ; 
first,  we  are  to  contemplate  fair  studies ;  then,  good 
works ;  then,  the  interior  of  those  virtuous  men,  who 
perform  those  good  works.  But,  how  are  we  to  in¬ 
spect  the  beauty  of  a  holy  soul?  Retire  within 
thyself ;  examine  thine  own  interior ;  and,  if  thou 
dost  not  find  it  beautiful,  imitate  the  statuary,  who 
pares  off*  this,  planes  that,  renders  one  part  smooth. 


293 


another  pure,  till  he,  at  length,  produces  a  beautiful 
countenance.  Thus,  do  thou,  remove  whatever  is 
superfluous ;  rectify  whatever  is  perverse  ;  purify 
whatever  is  dark,  till  it  gain  lustre :  and  cease  not 
labouring  thy  statue,  till  the  deiform  splendour  of 
virtue,  shine  forth  in  thee;  till  thou  seest  a  sound 
mind  enthroned  in  holy  purity.  If  thou  arrivest  at 
this  state;  if  thou  seest  thyself  thus,  and  inhabitest 
thyself  in  purity,  freed  from  every  impediment  to 
becoming  thus  one  :  having  nothing  foreign,  mingled 
with  thy  internal  essence,  but  being  thyself  entirely 
one  true  light ;  not  measured  by  size ;  not  circum¬ 
scribed  by  figure ;  not  bounded,  even,  by  immense 
magnitude  ;  but  altogether  immeasurable,  as  being 
greater  than  all  magnitude,  and  fuller  than  all  quan¬ 
tity  :  if  thou  seest  thyself  arrived  at  this  pitch  of 
good  confidence,  concerning  thyself;  and  so  far 
advanced,  that  thou  needest  no  longer  a  guide :  here 
steadfastly  fix  thy  mental  eye  ;  for  it  is  such  an  eye 
only,  that  beholdeth  consummate  beauty.  But,  if 
thine  eye  be  disordered  by  vice,  or  not  purified,  or 
through  cowardice,  unable  to  behold  exceeding 
splendour,  then  it  will  be  dark,  and  incapable  of 
viewing  this  glorious  vision,  even  though  it  were 
pointed  out  to  thee.  He  that  will  see,  must  bring  a 
visive  faculty,  congenial,  and  similar,  to  the  object 
contemplated.  Eye  never  yet  beheld  the  sun,  that 
was  not  soliform;  neither  can  a  soul  contemplate 
beauty,  except  it  be  itself  beautiful :  and  so,  he  must 
become  all  deiform,  and  all  beauty,  who  is  to  see 
Grod,  and  (archetypal)  beauty  ;  ysvefrSa)  Srj  irpcvTov 
Qso&iSyg  7 rag,  koli  x<x\o$  7 r«£,  si  [xsT^si  su<ra<r6ou  ©sov  rs 

XCLl  xcthov. 


294 


1  have  now  brought  my  prolix  transcript  to  an 
end :  it  grew  upon  me,  and  amused  me ;  and  I  could 
not  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  proceeding ;  though 
perhaps,  that  which  was  interesting  to  me,  with  the 
noble  original  before  me,  will  to  you  appear  very  flat, 
stale,  and  unprofitable,  through  the  dusky  medium  in 
which  I  have  enveloped  it. 

My  studies  have,  of  late,  been  pretty  vigorous ; 
which  is,  in  a  good  measure,  owing,  to  my  being 
better  provided,  than  hitherto,  with  books  that  have 
served  as  a  sort  of  ecclesiastical  heralds ;  especially, 
so  far  as  greek  philosophy,  and  experimental  religion, 
are  concerned.  Poiret’s  Bibliotheca  Mysticorum, 
Fabliaus’  Bibliotheca  Grseca,  and  Buddeus’  Isa- 
goge  Historica  Theologica,  have  answered,  and  ex¬ 
celled  my  expectation :  and  with  a  few  more  such 
indexes,  and  a  tolerably  ancient  library  at  my  com¬ 
mand,  if  my  health  is  spared,  I  do  hope  I  may 
become  somewhat  better  qualified,  for  an  under  work¬ 
man  to  you.  At  present,  I  think  I  can  trace  the 
chrysostomian  school,  to  Philo  Judaeus;  who  was, 
merely,  the  patriarch  of  later  platonism,  as  it  was 
modified  by  the  Alexandrine  eclectics;  but,  I  also 
think,  that,  Ephrem  Syrus,  Macarius,  and  other 
fathers  of  the  desert,  drank  deeply  of  the  same 
fountain  ;  though  their  platonism  assumed  a  more 
mystical  form,  than  that  of  Clemens  Alexandrinus, 
Chrysostom,  or  even  Origen  himself.  The  platonism 
of  the  former,  (Ephr.  Mac.  &c.)  cannot  be  questioned, 
on  an  inspection  of  their  writings  ;  and,  so  far  as 
Macarius  is  concerned,  it  is  well  illustrated,  in  the 
preface  to  the  English  translation  you  have.  But 
the  gradations  of  mysticism  are  curious :  in  which,  I 
just  find,  I  am  borne  out  by  Poiret.  He  yloes  not 
include  either  Clemens  Alexand.,  or  Chrysostom,  in 


295 


his  catalogue  of  mystics.  To  Origen,  he  does  assign  a 
place,  styling  him,  ‘  illuminatus  a  Deo  ; ’  Macarius,  he 
characterizes,  as  4  theodidactus,  solidus,  realissimus, 
penetrans/  And  Ephrem  Syrus,  he  calls  ‘  totus 
affection es,  et  viscera.’  The  mixed  character  of  pla¬ 
tonism,  and  mysticism,  is,  perhaps,  better  exemplified 
in  Dr.  H.  More,  than  in  any  other  modern.  For, 
while  he  was  deeply  read  in  Plato,  Plotinus,  &c.,  it  is 
remarkable,  that  the  book  to  which  he  attributes  his 
deepest,  and  happiest  views  of  religion,  was  the 
Theologia  Germanica ;  a  work,  which  may  be  deemed 
the  parent  source  of  German  pietism ;  which  was 
edited,  for  the  fourth  or  fifth  time,  by  John  Arndt ; 
having,  long  before,  been  re-edited,  by  Luther. 
Poiret  gives  this  character  of  the  work  :  .  .  ‘  Antiquus, 
Celebris,  maxime  radicalis,  et  exquisitissimus  libellus  ; 
qui  nil  fere  quam  mera,  Christianas  maxime  interioris, 
et  practice  theologias,  principia  continet.  Deum 
esse  omnia ;  hominem  esse  nihil ;  malum  appro- 
priationis ;  abnegatio  sui,  et  reliquorum  omnium : 
turn  discrimen  veri  et  falsi  luminis,  verge  et  falsge 
libertatis,  puri  et  mercenarii  amoris,  constituunt 
argumentum,  de  quo  ibidem  agitur,  sine  notabili 
quidem  methodo,  attamen  tali  ratione,  quas  intimas 
soliditatis,  et  ab  anima  a  Deo  illuminata  profecta  esse 
sentitur.’  * 

Now  that  I  have  got  into  the  subject  of  mystics,  I 

*  An  ancient,  celebrated,  most  profound,  and  exquisite  little  book ;  which  con¬ 
tains  scarcely  any  thing  but  the  pure  elements  of  interior  Christianity,  and  prac¬ 
tical  theology.  That  God  is  all  in  all;  that  man  is  nothing;  the  evil  consequences 
of  selfish  appropriation;  the  denial  of  one- self,  and  of  all  things  belonging  to 
self ;  also,  the  discrimination  of  the  true  from  false  light,  of  the  true  from  false 
liberty,  —  these  topics  compose  the  argument  which  is  there  treated,  without 
exact  method  indeed,  yet  with  such  convincing  reasoning,  as  you  must  at  once 
perceive  to  be  of  the  most  solid  kind,  and  to  be  the  offspring  of  a  soul  illuminated 
by  God. 

VOL.  I.  #  U  4 


296 


feel  disposed,  to  give  you  a  specimen,  which  I  pro¬ 
mised  you  some  time  since,  of  Cardinal  Petrucci. 

‘  It  is  certain,  by  the  testimony  of  the  Apostle,  that 
all  who  are  predestinated,  must  be  made  conformable 
to  the  image  of  the  Son  of  God.  It  is,  therefore, 
equally  certain,  that  it  must  be  the  chief  care,  and 
principal  endeavour,  of  one  who  earnestly  desires  to 
be  reckoned  amongst  the  number  of  those,  to  keep 
the  eye  of  his  soul  closely  fixed,  on  the  most  holy 
original,  Christ ;  to  draw  in  himself,  as  resembling, 
and  perfect  a  copy  of  it,  as  possibly  can  be  done,  by 
Divine  grace.  We  have,  then,  thus  far,  foreseen  the 
conditions,  that  have  embellished,  and  graced  all  the 
works  of  Christ ;  and  we  must  do  what  in  us  lies,  to 
adorn  our  own,  with  the  like  qualities.  Christ  was 
the  noblest  of  all  agents ;  and  the  most  perfect  no¬ 
bility  of  the  soul,  proceeds  from  his  virtue  and  holi¬ 
ness.  Let,  therefore,  the  inward  purity  and  candour 
of  our  conscience,  be  the  fundamental  condition  of 
our  acting  and  working :  .  .  ‘  And  the  Lord  had  respect 
unto  Abel  and  to  his  offerings ;  but  unto  Cain,  and 
his  offering,  he  had  not  respect.’  Respect,  from  God, 
is,  his  approbation  and  love ;  but  he  never  approves, 
or  loves  the  gifts,  unless  he  has  first,  in  his  mercy, 
accepted  the  giver.  Abel  and  his  oblations,  were 
accepted  by  God  ;  and  the  cause  of  his  being  so, 
came  from  his  innocence  ;  and  because  he  was  up¬ 
right.  We  should  not  have  so  great  a  regard  to 
what  we  do ,  as  to  what  we  truly  are .  For,  were  we 
good  in  the  inward  man,  our  actions  would  be  like¬ 
wise  good ;  and,  if  we  were  righteous  at  the  bottom, 
our  actions  would  be  so  too.  Many  place  holiness, 
in  good  works ;  but  never  so  much  as  dream,  that  it 
consists,  in  being  possessed  of  a  principle  of  sanctity. 
Let  our  works  appear  never  so  holy,  yet  they  do  not 


297 


satisfy  us,  so  far  as  they  are  works :  but,  in  propor¬ 
tion  as  we  are  godly ;  and  as  they  spring  from  the 
centre  of  a  holy  soul.  It  is  a  holy  heart,  which  sanc¬ 
tifies  every  thing  we  set  about ;  and  that  man  is  holiest, 
whose  soul  is  best  replenished,  with  the  grace  and 
love  of  God  ;  and  his  works  are  still  the  better  quali¬ 
fied,  the  greater  respect  he  has  to  the  glory  of  God. 
Our  diligent  endeavour,  therefore,  should  be,  to  keep 
this  secret  ground  and  centre  of  our  soul,  undefiled 
and  enlarged ;  seeing,  without  all  question,  man’s 
essential  happiness  is  rooted  and  placed  in  it.  It  is 
the  mind  that  is  good,  and  well  experienced  in  the 
pure  love  of  God,  which  makes  our  actions  perfect 
and  accepted,  in  the  sight  of  the  Divine  majesty. 
What  may  be  drawn  from  this  heavenly  doctrine,  is 
this,  that,  seeing  the  true  godliness  of  human  actions 
does  not  consist,  in  the  natural,  or  material  goodness 
of  them  only  ;  but,  in  that  which  is  supernatural  also, 
proceeding  from  sanctifying  grace,  and  from  love  ; 
then,  human  actions  shall  be  proportionably  good,  by 
how  much  the  more  fervent  love,  and  abundant  grace, 
they  are  advanced  to  the  glory  of  God.  Hence,  it 
comes  to  pass,  thfat  very  oft,  a  poor,  godly  woman, 
who  receives  the  sacrament  with  earnestness  of  love 
to  God,  deserves  more  than  the  Priest  who  conse¬ 
crates  it :  and  a  poor,  provided  he  be  a  devout 
man,  has  a  greater  interest  in  reward,  than  many 
great  and  learned  doctors,  who  shine,  by  their  preach¬ 
ing  and  ingenious  performances,  like  so  many  suns 
in  the  church  of  God :  and  that,  because  the  greater 
measure  of  love,  makes  the  action,  that  is  meanest  of 
itself  become  the  holier  of  the  two  :  and,  therefore, 
the  sanctity  of  the  agent,  is  the  root  and  foundation 
of  holy  actions.’ 

On  reviewing  what  I  have  written,  I  entertain 


298 


strong  suspicions  that  this  may  fairly  be  styled,  a  very 
pedantic  letter.  You  will,  however,  take  in  good 
part,  and  make  candid  allowance,  for  my  prolusions. 
When  a  person  lives  much  alone  ;  and  has  far  more 
converse  with  the  dead  than  the  living ;  it  is  perhaps 
impossible,  not  to  catch  somewhat  of  the  manner  of 
his  associates ;  and  of  course,  to  talk  and  write,  when 
he  can  do  it  freely,  like  those  of  ‘  olden  time.’  It 
would  be  a  desirable  faculty  to  be  able  to  give,  rather 
the  spirit,  than  the  body,  of  these  ancient  gentry ;  to 
imbibe  their  views,  sentiments,  and  divine  enthusiasm; 
and,  then,  to  pour  it  forth,  in  one’s  own  words. 
This,  I  have  not  yet,  even  partially,  attained  ;  but 
may  I  not  hope,  that,  when  more  fully  charged,  I 
shall  be  enabled  to  appear  less  pedantic,  and  more 
original  ?  You  know  what  Horace  says. 

Rem  tibi  Socraticae  poterunt  ostendere  chartae, 

Verbaque,  provisam  rem,  non  invita  sequuntur.* 

Now,  I  am,  at  present,  gleaning  my  rem ,  from  philo¬ 
sophy,  and  from  the  scriptures ;  and  do  trust,  that, 
through  higher  influences  than  Horace  knew  of, 
words  will  follow.  It  is  not,  however,  to  be  for¬ 
gotten,  that  it  is  not  the  most  diligent  and  laborious 
study  of  the  ancients,  that  will  do  :  for  you  know, 

.  .  .  .  ‘  who  reads 

Incessantly,  and  to  his  reading  brings  not 
A  spirit  and  judgment  equal  or  superior, 

Uncertain  and  unsettled  still  remains, 

Deep  versed  in  books,  and  shallow  in  himself.’ 

The  sapere  must  be  the  principium  et  fons :  .  .  the 
living  principle,  in  comparison  with  which,  all  the 
rest  sink  into  mere  mechanical  instruments ;  which 

*  Fit  matter,  first,  philosophy  affords, 

And,  from  fit  matter,  flow  the  willing  words. 


299 


are  useless,  and  even  dangerous,  unless  they  be 
guided  by  sound  wisdom  and  discretion. 

As  this  is  a  letter  of  quotation,  I  must  give  you 
something  to  the  present  purpose,  from  the  above 
mentioned  Theologia  Germanica. 

‘  Quamvis  bonum  sit  inquirere,  aut  explorare,  atque 
etiam  cognoscere,  quid  boni  sanctique  viri  scripserint, 
aut  passi  fuerint ;  aut  quomodo  vixerint,  quidve  Deus 
in  eis,  et  per  eos  egerit  et  voluerit:  tamen  esset  cen- 
ties  satius,  ut  homo  exploraret,  et  cognosceret,  quis, 
quaiisve  sit  status  vitse  suae  j  et  quid  Deus,  in  eo,  sit, 
et  velit,  et  agat ;  et  ad  quam  rem  Deus  eo  velit  uti, 
vel  nolit.  Itaque  hoc  quoque  verum  est,  quod  dici- 
tur:  Nunquam  tarn  bonum  est  exire,  quin  sit  intus 
manere  melius.’ # 

And  now  to  descend  to  business.  You  must  know, 
that  my  authorship  begins  to  look  out  for  some  tidings 
of  his  sermon.  Methinks,  if  the  printer  and  publisher 
were  decently  active,  it  might  be  out  by  this  time : 
whenever  it  is  ready,  I  wish  it  to  be  properly  adver¬ 
tized,  and,  perhaps,  it  might  be  well  to  have  some 
copies  sent  to  the  other  booksellers,  Keene,  Dugdale, 
Archer,  Mercier,  and  Mahon.  It  is  only  by  seeing 
them  lying  on  a  counter,  that  people  will  be  led  to 
think  of  purchasing  such  light  ephemeral  things,  as 
my  sermon :  and  yet,  if  it  do  contain  any  important 
truth,  it  is  desirable  that  it  should  be  bought  and 
read.  I  shall,  also,  be  glad  to  have  copies  sent  to 

*  Although  it  may  be  desfrable  to  inquire,  to  investigate,  yea  even  to  ascertain 
by  actual  study  and  research,  what  good  and  holy  men  have  written  or  under¬ 
gone  ;  what  was  their  manner  of  life  ;  and  what  things  God  wrought,  or  willed,  in 
them,  and  by  them :  nevertheless,  it  would  be  a  hundred-fold  better  for  a  man,  to 
examine  into  and  ascertain  his  own  actual  state ;  what  manner  of  life  he  is  living  ; 
and  what  God  may  be,  and  will,  and  work  in  him ;  and  for  what  purposes,  God 
may,  or  may  not,  be  willing  to  make  use  of  him.  Therefore  there  is  truth  in 
the  saying;  ‘  It  is  never  so  good  for  us  to  go  abroad,  but  that  it  may  be  still 
better  for  us  to  stay  at  home.’ 


300 


the  people  in  town,  whom  I  shall  specify  in  the 
envelope  ;  and  through  the  Castle,  if  it  would  not  be 
trespassing,  to  certain  other  people,  whom  I  shall 
likewise  mention.  I  shall  myself  want  30  copies, 
which  you  can  probably  send  me  by  post.  My  friends 
among  the  clergy  must  be  presented  with  copies ;  and 
the  Archbishop  wants  to  send  one  to  the  Bishop  of 
London,  with  a  particular  note  accompanying  it. 

Besides,  my  friend - wishes  to  send  copies  to  the 

Bishops  of  Waterford,  Cork,  and  Limerick. 

I  presume  I  have  fairly  tired  you,  so  believe  me, 

dear  Sir, 

most  cordially  and  gratefully  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  41. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb. 

Nov.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Short  as  it  may  be,  I  will  say  something  to  you  this 
afternoon,  lest  you  should  entertain  one  day’s  doubt 
of  my  entire  pleasure,  at  being  the  depositary  of  your 
interesting  researches.  Your  extracts  may,  possibly, 
have  some  qualities,  which  your  own  thoughts  and 
expressions  would  not  have.  But,  though  the  latter 
will  always  gratify  the  most,  I  think  I  may  engage, 
that  what  you  transcribe,  .  .  much  more  what  you 
translate,  .  .  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  have. 

I  will  look  at  Plotinus,  and  will  get  Macrobius. 
Thinking,  as  I  do,  that  platonism  was  prepared  pro- 


301 


videntially,  not  only  as  preliminary  to  Christian  piety, 
but  as  a  kind  of  fermenting  principle,  to  act  occa¬ 
sionally  in  reinvigorating  it ;  I  see  much  congruity, 
in  its  latterly  assuming  such  a  form,  as  fitted  it,  more 
than  ever,  for  the  use  to  which  it  was  to  be  put. 
The  passage,  of  which  you  have  given  the  substance, 
is  in  as  great  readiness  for  being  usefully  applied  to 
Christian  purpose,  as  any  piece  of  heathen  philosophy 
could  be. 

Your  observations  on  the  mystic  writers,  are  to 
me  highly  interesting ;  and  do  not  hesitate  in  com¬ 
municating  all  that  strikes  you.  I  will  carefully  lay 
by  your  letters  ;  and  they  will  of  course  be,  hereafter, 
if  it  please  God,  for  your  use,  as  well  as  for  mine. 
It  is  most  curious,  and  I  own,  to  me,  very  satisfac¬ 
tory,  that  such  a  line  should  be  drawn  between 
fathers  who  were,  and  who  were  not,  mystical.  I 
feel  a  sensation  of  pleasure,  that  such  a  line  can  be 
clearly  drawn.  For,  much  as  I  value  the  use  mystics 
have  been,  I  own,  I  no  more  relish  them  for  myself, 
on  the  one  hand,  than  I  do  calvinists  on  the  other. 
We  may  use  them  with  much  information,  and  inno¬ 
cent  entertainment ;  though,  now  and  then,  with  a 
touch  of  regret :  .  . 

'  The  latent  tracts,  the  giddy  heights  explore 
Of  those  who  blindly  creep,  or  sightless  soar 

but  we  cannot  but  be  pleased,  to  have  it  distinctly 
made  out,  by  unprejudiced  arbiters,  that  we  belong 
to  neither  class  ;  neither  creep  with  dogmatists,  nor 
soar  with  mystics.  By  the  way,  are  not  the  predes- 
tinarian  class,  the  same  transcendentalists,  on  the 
philosophy  of  Aristotle,  that  the  mystics  are,  in  that 
of  Plato  ?  And  have  they  not  both,  in  their  several 
ways,  been  efficient  out-guards,  the  one  of  truth,  the 


other  of  love  ?  I  wonder  had  mysticism  any  connec¬ 
tion  with  the  belief  of  transubstantiation  ? 

One  would  think  it  might  have  disposed  minds  to 
receive  such  a  system  ;  if  it  were  only  by  its  misty 
indistinctness. 

The  tendency  of  the  lutheran  church  to  mysticism, 
strengthens  my  idea  of  its  being  the  successor  of  the 
ancient  greek  church.  But  I  must  now  say  no 
more;  as  our  clock  has  just  struck  seven.  How 
excellent  are  Petrucci’s  Remarks  ;  and  also  that 
passage  from  the  Theologia  Germ.  :  si  sic  omnia  !  I 
will  attend  to  all  you  say ;  and  shall  find  some  way, 
Castle  or  otherwise,  of  forwarding  your  several  pre¬ 
sents.  With  your  leave,  I  would  only  add  Keene, 
Dugdale,  &c.  to  our  own  publisher ;  as,  though  I  am 
no  bigot,  I  have  no  great  relish  for  making  such  a 
use  of  R.  C.  booksellers,  except  they  were  farther 
from  the  characters  in  S.  Matthew  vii.  6.,  than  either 

- or - have  ever  appeared  to  me  to  be.  But 

this  shall  be  just  as  you  say  in  your  next,  after  re¬ 
ceiving  this. 

Reason  acts  too  much  without  love,  in  dogmatists. 
Love  acts  too  much  without  reason,  in  mystics. 
Happy,  that,  even  in  ancient  days,  there  was  a  Chry¬ 
sostom,  in  whom  love  and  reason  were  blended  and 
attempered.  I  love  Macarius  ;  and  Ephrem  Syrus, 
as  far  as  I  know  him  :  but  I  rejoice  in  Chrysostom ; 
and  Poiret’s  leaving  him  out,  is  to  me  highly  grati- 
tying- 

Never  talk  about  pedantry,  when  you  are  talking 
to 

Yours  always  most  cordially, 

Alex.  Knox. 


303 


LETTER  XL VIII. 

To  A .  Knox , 

Cashel,  Nov.  17.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

The  encouragement  you  have  given  me,  emboldens 
me  to  offer  a  few  more  observations  ;  which,  after  all, 
are  perhaps  not  worth  being  communicated.  The 
mystic,  and  scholastic  theology,  which  flourished, 
at  the  same  period,  in  the  Latin  church,  appear  to 
have  served  that  very  two-fold  purpose,  for  which, 
we  have  seen,  so  many  providential  provisions  were 
made.  This  is  distinctly  adverted  to,  by  a  most  un¬ 
prejudiced  witness ;  Jac.  Thomasius,  (quoted  by 
Buddeus.  Isagog.  Hist.  Theol.  p.  687.)  He  thus 
writes,  ‘  I) urn  partes  sunt  Christianismi ;  vera  tides, 
pia  vita.  Ilia  ad  intellectum,  hsec  ad  voluntatem 
refertur  ;  ilii  scholastica,  huic  mystica  theol ogia  sub¬ 
venire  conata  est  olim,  sed  ita,  ut  plurimum  labis 
adspergeretur.  In  utraque  repurganda  laboraverint 
nostri,  cum  exemplo  illis  prgeivisset  Lutherus.  Huic 
enim  bella  fuere,  non  cum  scholasticis  modo  docto- 
ribus,  sed  cum  enthusiastis  quoque,  et  fanaticis.  Post 
Lutherum,  quasi  partitis  operis,  alii  scholasticam,  alii 
mysticam,  magis  magisque  reformare  sunt  adgressi. 
E  quibus,  Joannes  Arndius  maxime  negotium  sibi 
sumpsit  mysticse  theologize  refingendae  in  faciern 
saniorem.,#  I  have  extended  this  quotation  so  far, 

*  Christianity  consists  of  two  parts ;  true  faith  and  holy  living :  the  former 
relates  to  the  understanding,  the  latter  to  the  will.  To  the  one,  the  scholastic,  to 
the  other,  the  mystic  theology,  in  former  times  lent  their  aid,  but  with  great  per- 

VOL.  I.  #  u  8 


304 


because  the  latter  part  of  it  goes  to  show,  that,  even 
in  the  Lutheran  church,  (though  I  agree  with  you  in 
deeming  it,  the  succession  of  the  ancient  Greek 
church)  there  was  a  provision  for  the  two-fold  func¬ 
tion,  of  guarding  truth,  and  exciting  love. 

Buddeus,  following  the  opinion  of  many  other 
learned  divines,  (Isag.  p.  681.)  attributes  the  rise  of 
mystic  theology  in  the  Latin  church,  to  the  dominion 
of  the  scholastic,  which  was,  at  last,  felt  to  be  op¬ 
pressive.  The  dry,  thorny  disputations,  and,  often, 
frivolous  questions  of  the  schools,  were  ill  suited  to 
satisfy,  the  natural  appetite  of  the  human  mind  and 
heart,  for  divine  truth  and  love.  They  became  dis¬ 
gusted  with  the  insipidity  of  this  system  ;  and  hence, 
when  food  of  another  kind  was  provided,  by  the 
translation  of  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  and  the 
writings  of  St.  Bernard,  it  was  received  with  avidity  ; 
and  was  soon  digested  into  a  system  of  mystic  theo¬ 
logy,  which  became  a  counterpoise  to  the  subtleties 
of  the  schools.  A  curious  confirmation  of  which 
fact,  may  be  drawn  from  the  circumstance,  that  the 
great  schoolmen  of  the  13th  century,  Bonaventura, 
Albertus  Magnus,  and  Thomas  Aquinas,  felt  them¬ 
selves  obliged  to  call  in  mysticism  to  their  aid  ;  a 
union,  which  was  afterwards  more  completely  formed, 
in  the  writings  of  the  celebrated  Gerson.  Must  we 
not  say,  that,  in  this  process,  there  evidently  appears 
at  work,  that  principle  of  providential  compensation, 


version  of  the  truth.  Our  divines  have  laboured  to  effect  the  purification  of  both 
branches;  Luther  setting  the  example.  For  he  embarked  in  controversy,  not 
with  the  scholastic  doctors  only,  but  also  with  the  enthusiasts  and  fanatics.  After 
Luther’s  time,  a  division  of  labour  took  place  among  the  Lutheran  divines;  some 
aiming  at  a  gradual  reformation  of  the  scholastic,  others,  of  the  mystic  theology. 
Amongst  whom,  John  Arndt,  especially,  undertook  the  task  of  re-modelling 
mysticism  into  a  sounder  form. 


305 


which  so  frequently  by  the  collision,  and  sometimes 
by  the  alliance,  of  opposite  extremes,  guards  the 
central  truth,  till  circumstances  are  ripe,  for  its 
being  brought  forward  with  safety  and  effect.  That 
mixture  of  scholasticism  and  mysticism,  which 
prevailed  in  the  Latin  church,  for  two  centuries 
prior  to  the  Reformation  we  know  was  deformed  by 
grievous  errors ;  but  probably  it  was,  on  the  whole, 
the  purest  system,  which  the  times  could  bear.  On 
this  hypothesis,  you  will  observe,  that  your  idea  of 
the  final  cause  of  the  Canticles,  comes  into  play: 
they  being,  as  it  were,  a  pleasure-ground,  for  mysti¬ 
cism  to  disport  in. 

I  know  not  whether  the  facts  I  have  thus  gleaned, 
and  the  observations  I  have  made  upon  them,  will 
appear  to  you  to  have  any  substantial  value.  But,  I 
confess,  the  impression  on  my  own  mind  is,  that  there 
appears  in  this  place,  a  nice  adjustment  of  weight  and 
power,  of  ballast  and  sails.  Had  there  been  only 
mystic  theology  in  the  Latin  church,  the  whole  west 
would  have  been  out  of  its  wits :  had  there  been 
only  school  divinity,  it  would  have  produced  a  mere 
race  of  cold,  yet  disputatious  quibblers,  without  an 
ignitable  particle  in  their  composition ;  ifj  indeed,  we 
except  those  angry  passions,  which  commonly  are  in 
pretty  full  force  among  logomachists.  And,  in  either 
case,  what  materials  would  there  have  been  for  the 
Reformation,  and  for  all  the  beneficial  effects  that 
have  followed  ?  Luther,  it  is  probable,  was  as  much 
indebted,  on  the  one  hand,  to  the  practical  warmth 
of  the  Theologia  Germanica,  as  to  the  logical  acumen 
of  Acquinas,  on  the  other. 

Am  I  fanciful  in  supposing,  that  one  end  of  mys¬ 
ticism  was,  to  keep  alive  the  idea  of  distinct  stages, 
and  gradations  of  religion?  It  being  chiefly  occu- 

vol.  i.  x 


306 


pied  about  what  was  not  cognizable  by  the  senses, 
about  interior  sentiments,  and  feelings  of  spiritual 
religion,  .  .  was  of  course  led  to  make  for  itself  some 
variety,  in  this  abstract  sphere  of  operation  ;  and 
those  who  cultivated  it,  must,  necessarily,  have  been 
anxious  to  determine,  the  degree  of  proficiency  they 
had  attained.  And,  hence,  distinct  stages  would  be 
marked  out,  which  individuals  might  readily  know 
whether  they  had  attained.  A  proceeding,  not  ne¬ 
cessary  among  those,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  de¬ 
termining  pretensions  to  Christian  virtue,  either  by 
external  acts,  or  by  doctrinal  opinions.  Certain  it  is, 
that  Philo  Judaeus,  Plotinus,  and  all  the  new  platonic 
school,  Clemens  Alexandrinus*  St.  Bernard,  Cardinal 
Bona,  and  all  the  mystics  of  the  middle  ages,  and  of 
modern  times,  have  enumerated  distinct,  and  clearly 
distinguishable,  stages  of  internal  religion.  And  yet, 

I  do  not  recollect  that,  among  fathers  or  divines  of 
early  date,  who  were  not  somewhat  mystical,  such 
discriminative  stages  have  been  clearly  marked. 
Some  moderns,  such  as  Baxter,  our  platonists,  John 
Wesley,  &c.,  do  thus  discriminate  ;  but  may  they  not, 
in  this  respect,  have  copied  the  mystics  ?  If  all  this 
be  not  fanciful,  then,  we  are  indebted  to  mysticism 
for  comparative  theology ;  for  that  branch  of  it,  at 
least,  which  follows  up  St.  John’s  idea,  of  little 
children,  young  men,  and  fathers. 

Could  you  propose  to  me  a  promising  subject,  for 
four  Advent  and  a  Christmas-day  sermon,  in  serie? 
If  you  can  do  it,  (and  observe,  I  merely  want  the 
general  hint,  and  not  the  outline,)  it  would  be  of 
great  service  to  me.  It  will  not  be  too  late,  any  day 
this  week.  I  have  not  been  well  enough  to  do  much 
in  the  sermon  way ;  hardly  any  thing,  in  truth,  since 
the  visitation.  I  could,  indeed,  both  read  and  write  ; 


307 


but,  then,  it  was  necessary,  not  to  lead,  but  to  follow 
the  workings  of  my  mind.  When  I  attempted  the 
former,  (for  I  have  repeatedly  attempted,)  I  was  un¬ 
successful  :  but  I  still  live  in  hopes  of  doing  better. 
I  think  a  continuous  set  of  discourses,  would  be  likely 
to  engage  my  mind,  and  keep  it  in  activity,  much 
time  being  absolutely  thrown  away,  in  its  present- 
stage,  of  casting  about  for  independent  subjects, 
which,  one  after  another,  I  am  obliged  to  relinquish. 

I  shall  only  hint,  that,  if  it  would  not  be  intrench¬ 
ing  upon  your  time,  I  would  always  rather  wait  one 
or  two  posts,  than  that  you  should  hurry  off  short 
letters,  merely  because  the  post  is  going  out.  I  do 
not,  however,  wish  to  interrupt  the  distribution  of 
time  you  are  in  the  habit  of  making  ;  nor  to  do  any 
thing  like  prescribing  the  length,  or  manner,  of  those 
communications,  which  are  always  most  highly  valued 
by,  my  dear  Sir, 

Yours  most  gratefully  and  cordially, 

John  Jebb* 


LETTER  42. 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehh . 


Nov.  21.  180G. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  thank  you  for  yours  of  the  17th,  all  of  which  is 
worth  attending  to,  and  some  parts  striking ;  particu¬ 
larly  your  view  of  the  connected  effects  of  mysticism 
and  school  divinity.  The  quotation  from  Thomasius 
is  very  remarkable  ;  but  I  do  not  see  clearly,  that  the 

N  2 


308 


conclusion  proves  a  regard  to  truth,  in  the  lutheran 
church.  I  believe  truth  was  provided  for,  by  its 
formularies ;  but  I  am  not  inclined  to  think,  that 
John  Arndt  was  much  concerned  for  any  thing  but 
piety.  What  is  said,  ‘  Alii  scholasticam  reformare 
sunt  adgressi,’  I  think,  belonged  rather  to  the  dry 
high  church  lutherans,  than  to  any  class  of  pious 
men  in  that  church  ;  which  had  its  pharisees,  while 
the  mystics  were  its  essenes.  Look  at  Mosheim’s 
account  of  the  rise  of  the  pietists.  However,  pro¬ 
bably  you  mean,  just  what  I  have  been  saying  ;  and 
that  I  have  taken  what  you  say  of  the  conclusion  of 
the  quotation,  too  limitedly  of  the  last  few  words. 
I  like  much  your  researches ;  only,  be  cautious  of 
letting  them  have  more  of  your  time,  than  their  just 
proportion.  Use  every  thing  ;  but  do  not  let  your¬ 
self  become  fond  of  any  thing.  Go  on,  however,  I 
intreat  you,  to  communicate  to  me  your  thoughts : 
they  are  truly  interesting,  and  I  think  they  will  be 
more  so. 

I  have  sent  you  no  gilt-edged  sermon.  Watson 
thought  it  superfluous,  as  scarcely  at  all  done ;  and, 
I  own  I  think  the  same  ;  so  much  as  (though  you 
desired  it)  not  to  order  them.  As  I  sent  them  yester¬ 
day,  the  character  of  their  outside  is  4  simplex  mun- 
ditiis.’  And  when  I  think  what  is  within,  I  own  1 
think  this  most  suitable  ;  excepting  you  were  send¬ 
ing  one  to  the  Viceroy,  or  to  the  King. 

I  wish  I  could  aid  you  in  the  Advent  business; 
but  I  cannot  tell  you  how  difficult  I  should  find  it,  to 
conceive  a  continued  subject ;  except  such  a  thing 
were  to  open  on  my  mind  of  itself:  which  has  hap¬ 
pened.  Were  you  much  indisposed  for  composition, 
you  might  obtain  materials  for  four  Advent  sermons, 
from  Nicole  on  the  four  last  things :  Death,  Judg- 


309 


ment,  Hell,  and  Heaven  :  and,  then,  you  might  write 
a  good  Christmas  sermon,  on,  ‘  For  this  purpose  was 
the  Son  of  God  manifested,  that  he  might  destroy 
the  works  of  the  devil/  .  .  in  which  you  might  look 
back  on  all  you  have  been  saying,  during  the  week 
preceding. 

I  feel  that  four  connected,  and  yet  sufficiently 
pregnant  subjects,  would  not  easily  present  them¬ 
selves.  I  do  not  know,  but,  considering  Advent  as 
referring,  prospectively,  to  the  advent  to  come,  even 
more  than  that  past,  you  might  draw  four  good  ser¬ 
mons,  from  the  %5th  of  St.  Matthew ;  two,  from  the 
parable  of  the  virgins  ;  one,  from  the  parable  of  the 
talents ;  the  last  of  the  four,  from  the  account  of 
the  Day  of  Judgment,  in  the  last  verses.  Then,  for 
Christmas-day,  I  think  various  good  subjects  would 
present  themselves ;  and,  perhaps,  none  better  than 
S.  J  ohn  i.  14. 

The  two  parables,  and  the  statement  in  S.  Matthew 
xxv.,  and  particularly  the  1st  parable,  are  exceedingly 
fine.  Only,  on  reflection,  I  doubt  whether  that  of 
the  virgins,  could  be  fairly  divided.  If  it  could  not, 
a  fourth  excellent  subject  might  be,  the  marriage 
feast.  Perimus  licitis.  In  all  this,  however,  I  seem 
as  if  I  were  saying  what  would  not  be  of  much  use 
to  you ;  and  it  so  happens,  that  I  can  do  no  better, 
as  my  mind  is  thickened  with  morbidness,  not  at  all 
on  my  spirits,  nor  distressingly  on  my  body,  but  still, 
enough  affecting  the  latter,  to  make  the  mind  dull, 
but  not  uncomfortable.  And  besides,  I  have  my  oc¬ 
cupations  too.  I  am  writing  a  letter  to  Butterworth, 
which  has  spread  out  with  me.  And  this  day,  I  was 
obliged  to  write  an  address  to  the  public,  for  the 
charity  sermon  of  the  roman  catholic  Female  Peni¬ 
tentiary,  in  Townsend  Street ;  which  1  visited  yester- 

X  3 


310 


day  morning,  in  company  with  two  priests  ;  and  was 
so  much  pleased  with  what  I  saw  and  heard,  that  I 
am  their  zealous  advocate.  Piety,  is  positively,  to 
appearance,  more  cultivated  there,  than  it  would  be 
likely  to  be,  in  any  protestant  place,  of  the  same  de¬ 
scription,  I  know. 

Tell  the  Archbishop,  that  I  shall  be  so  impudent, 
as,  without  further  communication  to  him,  or  any  from 
him,  to  mention  him  as  a  subscriber  to  Hayley’s 
edition,  of  Cowper’s  translation  of  Milton.  You 
know  the  case;  you  zealously  urged  me;  and  you 
are  to  be  named  too.  You  can  tell  the  Archbishop 
that  it  will  be  two  guineas  ;  but,  being  to  aid  an 
orphan,  the  son  of  one  of  Cowper’s  kindest  friends, 
poor  Mr.  Rose,  he  will  think  it  well  given.  I  need 
not  send  my  love  to  the  Archbishop,  for  I  do  so  in 
stating  the  above ;  as  I  must  truly  love  one  I  take 
such  a  liberty  with. 

If  you  have  within  your  reach,  Boyle’s  Advantages, 
rather,  Excellency  of  Theology,  compared  with  Phi¬ 
losophy,  read  carefully  the  first  section ;  and  particu¬ 
larly  from  the  41st  page  of  my  edition,  i.  e.  from  the 
paragraph  beginning  ‘  And  on  the  occasion,  the 
greater  reverence,  &c. ;  ’  and  tell  me  if  you  perceive 
any  thing  striking  in  it.  I  wish  you,  also,  to  turn 
over,  with  some  attention,  Dr.  Clarke’s  1st  theolo¬ 
gical  work,  3  essays  on  Baptism,  Confirmation,  and 
Repentance.  I  will  say  more  about  this  last,  again  ; 
but,  can  now  only  say,  that  I  am 

Ever  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


311 


LETTER  XLIX. 

To  A.  Knox ,  Esq. 

Cashel,  Nov.  24.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

The  Archbishop  desires  me  to  tell  you,  that  he  is 
much  obliged  to  you  for  putting  him  down  as  a  sub¬ 
scriber  to  Cowper’s  posthumous  work  ;  and  wishes 
to  be  named  for  three  copies,  as  he  would  like  to 
give  it  to  his  daughters.  You  will,  of  course,  name 
me. 

What  you  dignify  with  the  title  of  researches,  are 
by  no  means  entitled  to  such  a  name.  It  has  been 
to  me  very  slight,  and  desultory  reading ;  only, 
perhaps,  in  books  not  easily  procured,  and  therefore, 
not  much  known.  But  I  cordially  thank  you  for 
your  kind  and  wise  caution,  about  not  letting  it  have 
too  much  of  my  time.  It  will  not  be  unpleasant  to 
you  to  hear,  that  all  you  could  wish,  on  that  head, 
passed  through  my  mind  several  days  ago ;  and  that 
I  feel  tolerably  conscious,  that  though  I  do,  and  pro¬ 
bably  ever  shall,  rather  range  from  subject  to  subject, 
than  read  very  continuously,  I  am  not  run  away  with 
by  any  particular  hobby-horse,  but  am  always  ready, 
so  far  as  health  and  spirits  will  permit,  to  apply  to  the 
proper  business  of  the  day  and  hour.  Last  week,  I 
was  more  than  commonly  unwell,  and  obliged  to 
keep  the  house  through  the  whole  of  it. 

You  judged  quite  rightly  about  the  sermons:  those 
sent  first,  were  just  as  I  could  wish,  except  that  the 
marble  paper  dirties  one’s  hands,  which,  however,  is 

x  4 


312 


but  an  accident.  I  have  given  up  the  notion  of  con¬ 
tinuous  Advent  sermons,  having  made  some  way  in 
a  discourse  for  next  Sunday,  on  Ps.  cxix.  165. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Sir, 

Ever  most  cordially  yours, 

John  Jebb. 

P.S.  I  shall  attend  to  what  you  wish  me  to  read. 


LETTER  43. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb. 

Nov.  28.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

X  shall  possibly  give  you  this  evening  but  little  for 
your  money,  but  I  will  treat  your  pocket  as  I  treat 
my  own  ;  that  is,  with  very  little  of  what  the  wise  of 
this  world  would  call  discretion.  I  have  an  inflamed 
eye,  which  makes  me  somewhat  economical  in  writ¬ 
ing  >  and  I  have  the  review  of  Cowper’s  Life  put 
afresh  upon  the  stocks,  which  demands  all  I  can  at 
present  muster,  of  ocular,  or  intellectual  ability. 

In  Clarke’s  3  essays,  look  particularly  at  Baptism, 
chap.  iii.  sec.  5.,  and  also  chap.  iv.  secs.  5  and  6. 
Mark,  how,  in  the  former  of  these  sections,  he  enters 
his  strong  testimony  against  all  Taylorites.  Alas! 

for  our  friend  at - !  And  observe,  in  the  latter, 

how  he  sides  with  us,  against  Drs.  S - ,  M - ,  &c. 

Look  also  at  Confirmation,  chap.  i.  sec.  1.,  and  chap, 
xiii.  secs.  6  and  7*  I  suppose  there  are  many  other 
passages  worth  attention  ;  but  these  are  what  have 


313 


struck  me  :  and  I  think  you  will  agree  with  me,  in 
regarding  them  as  very  remarkable  and  valuable. 

But  the  most  painful  thing  is,  that  so  little  of  the 
same  spirit  should  remain,  in  his  other  writings. 
There  may  be  many  crudities  in  this  early  work  ;  but 
it  is  animated,  direct,  cordial,  and  primitive.  He 
was  yet  unbiassed  by  any  thing  in  the  world ;  lived 
in  the  family  of  an  honest,  worthy,  Bishop  j  had  in 
his  mind  a  strong  germinating  principle  of  piety ; 
and  his  studying  the  Fathers,  placed  him,  for  a  time, 
as  in  a  hot-house.  Under  these  circumstances,  he 
wrote  what  I  am  now  referring  to.  What  he  wrote 
afterwards,  seems  to  imply  other  habits  and  feelings  ; 
as  Whiston  used  to  tell  him,  not  better  ones.  I  think 
the  comparison  will  be  useful,  and  interesting  to  you. 
Look,  particularly,  at  his  sermon  on  the  Love  of  God ; 

my  strictures  on  which,  our  friend  at - ,  would 

not  wholly  allow ;  indeed,  if  I  remember,  hardly 
at  all. 

Yet,  I  am  not  sure,  whether,  even  this  man  might 
not  be,  in  one  respect,  a  greater  aid  to  you,  than 
more  evangelical  sermon  writers  could  be.  What  I 
mean  is,  that  some  of  his  sermons  might  aid  you 
considerably,  in  composing  yours ;  because  he  would 
often  give  you  a  sensible,  clear,  well  digested  ske¬ 
leton,  while  it  would  be  a  skeleton  only.  Look,  for 
instance,  at  the  Discourse  on  Gen.  xv.  6.,  and  see 
whether  you  could  not  put  some  flesh  on  those  bones  ; 
as  far  as  thought  could  proceed,  without  feeling,  .  . 
the  umbratile,  without  the  real  apprehension,  .  .  few 
men  could  out-do  him.  In  some  cases,  however, 
there  might  be  the  mould  of  truth  so  laid,  as  to 
admit  of  and  require,  only  the  pouring  in  the  melted 
gold  of  love ;  and  this  done,  as  I  think  you  might 
sometimes  find  no  great  difficulty  in  doing,  might 


314 


body  forth  a  good  sermon.  This,  however,  is  quite 
an  extemporaneous  fancy,  which  I  thought  of’  within 
this  hour,  and  have  not  been  able  to  consider  with 
any  deliberation. 

Dr.  N.  seems  to  go  on  well ;  and  I  think  will  be 
a  good  preacher,  when  his  mind  is  more  fully  regu¬ 
lated,  and  his  habits  more  established.  Dr.  W.  gives 
me  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction  ;  and  he  and  his 
brother  T.,  are  getting  into  the  best  possible  under¬ 
standing  with  each  other,  about  interior  matters. 

- is  clearly  set  on  being  what  he  ought  to  be ; 

and  Mrs. - ,  now  at  F - ,  has  written  to  me 

from  thence  a  delightful  letter.  Having  just  time,  I 
will  copy  part  of  it :  — 

‘  We  are  here  a  very  large  family  party  of  twenty  : 
and  I  can  be  more  retired,  more  given  up  to  serious 
thought,  more  collected,  and  I  think  I  have  enjoyed 
more  comfort,  in  my  devotions  this  day,  than  I  have 
experienced  for  some  time.  I  cannot  but  admire  the 
goodness  of  God  to  me  in  this  ;  that,  in  a  situation 
where  there  is  every  thing  to  distract,  he  should  so 
keep  me,  so  guard  me,  and  show  such  wonderful  love 
toward  me,  who  have  been  so  cold  and  faithless ;  in¬ 
deed,  so  much  so,  that,  of  late,  I  have  often  feared  I 
was  deserted,  and  have  often  wondered  what  pre¬ 
vented  my  being  in  despair,  from  feeling  myself  so 
lifeless,  so  heartless,  so  completely  dead,  unable  to 
form  an  ardent  wish  to  be  otherwise.  In  this  situa¬ 
tion,  my  only  comfort,  in  examining  myself,  and,  I 
conceive,  a  very  solid  one  in  want  of  better,  was,  to 
find  myself  equally  inanimate  to  the  things  of  this 
world;  and  that  I  would  gladly  relinquish  anything, 
or  every  thing,  for  a  more  assured  and  experimental 
love  of  God.  I  do  not  think  I  have  so  opened  my¬ 
self  to  you  for  some  time ;  and  yet  I  have  not  been 


315 


without  the  desire  frequently  to  do  so  ;  and  I  know 
not  how  I  have  been  hindered ;  nor  can  I  account 
for  it  in  any  way,  than  by  being  in  such  a  state  as  I 
have  now  described.’ 

How  sober,  how  deep,  how  excellent,  and  if  I  may 
add  a  less  matter,  how  well  written  is  this !  You 
know  I  had  uneasiness  ;  and  you  see  there  was 
apparent  cause  ;  but  this  letter  shows  me,  most  satis¬ 
factorily,  that  there  was  no  real  cause.  I  could  not 
withhold  it  from  you  ;  you,  of  course,  are  at  liberty 
to  show  it  to  the  Archbishop,  with  whom  I  have  the 
comfort  of  thinking  I  have  no  secrecy. 

Farewell :  most  truly  and  always  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  44. 
To  the  Ret ;.  <7.  Jebb . 


Nov.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Y  ou  never  were  more  erroneous,  than  in  supposing, 
that  my  objecting  to  the  suaviter  in  modo  fortiter  in 
re,  had  any  thing  to  do  with  you.  Most  truly  such 
an  idea  never  presented  itself.  No,  no,  my  thought 
was  of  a  very  different  kind,  and  possibly  a  very 
groundless  kind.  Therefore,  without  requiring  from 
me  any  thing  like  a  relinquishment  of  an  opinion,  or 
exposing  you  to  the  suspicion  of  any  thing  like  per¬ 
tinacity,  your  expression  will  be  retained.  I  am 
sincerely  glad  the  other  observations  have  your  con¬ 
currence.  The  long  greek  quotation  is  a  very  fine 


316 


one ;  and,  on  the  whole,  I  think  it  deserves  insertion. 
You  disregard  little  imputations  of  pedantry ;  and  I 
own  I  am  not  sorry  to  see  greek  quotations,  in  the 
margin  of  a  Hibernian  visitation  sermon. 

Lancaster  and  his  moorish  friend,  Ombark  Boubi, 
visited  me  yesterday.  The  quaker  is  a  clever  fellow,  I 
suppose  with  some  excitement  of  brain :  certainly,  with 
great  capacity  to  talk  about  religion,  as  of  every  thing 
else  that  he  knows  any  thing  of.  Possibly,  the  me¬ 
chanism  of  his  system  may  be  useful  ;  but  of  his  plans 
altogether,  and  especially  as  far  as  religion  is  con¬ 
cerned,  I  greatly  doubt.  But  not  being  called  upon 
to  act,  one  way  or  other,  I  found  it  easy  enough  to 
pass  through  my  conversation  with  him ;  and  shall 
leave  others  to  countenance  him,  or  not,  as  they  think 
proper. 

N.  dined  with  me  on  Sunday ;  and  spent  six  hours 
and  more  with  me  :  conversation  did  not  flag.  He 
left  me  at  ten,  and  professed  he  thought  it  had  been 
at  eight.  This  was,  to  me,  right  pleasant,  who  would, 
I  assure  you,  ever  wish  to  send  off  my  guests  with  an 
appetite.  It  was  more,  however,  his  sound  state  of 
mind,  than  my  management,  which  made  him  think 
it  an  earlier  hour ;  for  I  talked  copiously,  as  I  am,  I 
fear  too  often,  over-disposed  to. 

One  part  of  my  talk  was  perfectly  extempore ;  and, 
therefore,  I  should  like  to  mention  it  to  you.  It  is 
usual  to  apply  the  epithet  of  abstract,  to  what  is  me¬ 
taphysical.  In  one  sense  it  is  just :  metaphysical 
entia  are  abstract  from  all  matter.  But,  in  another 
sense,  abstraction  is  not  used  in  metaphysic,  because, 
in  metaphysic,  you  think  of  what  is  strictly  intellec¬ 
tual  ;  which  you  find  in  its  own  simplicity,  and  have 
not  need  to  separate,  from  any  thing  in  which  it  in¬ 
heres.  Not  so  in  physics,  or  in  mathematics  :  here, 


817 


you  strictly  abstract ;  for  you  think  of  things  specu¬ 
latively,  which  are  inherent  in  objects  of  sense,  so  as 
to  have  no  kind  of  existence  out  of  them.  Squares, 
circles,  angles,  have  no  existence  without  matter ; 
therefore,  you  literally  abstract,  when  you  speak  of 
them.  Again,  in  moral  matters,  something  of  the 
same  kind  takes  place  ;  for  as,  in  physics,  you  speak 
of  objects  of  sense,  or  their  inseparable  properties,  so, 
you  here  speak  of  objects  of  interest  or  feeling  ;  and, 
in  merely  thinking  of  them,  you  abstract  the  idea 
from  the  sentiment,  as  in  physical  matters  from  the 
sensation.  The  mere  thinking  faculty,  therefore,  can 
exercise  itself  on  physical  sensation,  or  perception ; 
on  moral  sentiment ;  or  on  its  own  simple,  indiffer¬ 
ently  applicable  power.  But,  in  this  last  instance,  it 
has  nothing  to  exercise  abstraction  upon  ;  itself  is  its 
object ;  but  as  it  can  act  only  abstractedly,  in  physical 
matters,  it  can  do  no  more,  in  moral  matters.  And, 
therefore,  mere  abstract  ratiocination  might  as  well 
warm  one,  by  its  shuffling  about  the  idea  of  a  fire,  as 
make  one  good,  by  the  exercise  of  the  same  faculty 
on  goodness. 

Yours  most  cordially, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  L. 


To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Dec.  2.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  must  break  in  upon  your  more  interesting  pursuits, 
though  apprehensive  that  I  have  it  not  in  my  power 
to  indemnify  you,  for  the  minutes  I  may  steal  from 
Cowper ;  not  to  speak  of  the  sevenpence,  which,  I 
presume,  you  have  just  sent  out  to  the  post-man  :  so 
that,  you  see,  you  leave  me  far  behind  you  in  the  ar¬ 
ticle  of  discretion,  as  you  do  in  every  other  desirable 
article  that  I  know  of 

I  have  read  over  with  great  pleasure,  and  shall 
again  read  more  carefully,  the  passages  in  Clarke. 
They  are,  indeed,  most  remarkable,  and  every  way 
to  our  purpose  ;  especially  compared  with  other  parts 
of  his  writings.  I  did  not  fail  to  look  again,  at  his 
sermon  on  the  love  of  God ;  and  must  say,  that  I 
still  more  fully  acquiesce  in  your  strictures  at  R — , 
than  I  did  at  the  time.  Truly,  his  case  appears  to 
me  to  be  a  lamentable  one  ;  a  man,  certainly,  with 
prodigious  powers,  and  I  believe  thorough  honesty, 
daily  advancing  in  all  knowledge,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  too  visibly  declining  in  love.  That  was,  pro¬ 
bably,  an  unfortunate  day  for  him,  that  brought  him 
to  London,  to  preach  Boyle’s  lectures,  and  acquire 
reputation  as  an  able  metaphysical  theologian.  What 
Hoadly  says  of  his  earliest  works,  the  three  Essays, 
and  Amyntor,  is  remarkable  enough.  ‘  I  mention 
them  here,  not  to  put  them  on  a  level  with  his  other 


3 19 


performances  ;  but  only,  as  having  upon  them  the 
plain  marks  of  a  Christian  frame  of  mind,  &c.’  The 
same  Bishop  Hoadly  commends  his  wisdom,  in  not 
attempting  to  move  the  passions,  in  his  preaching  ; 
adding,  that,  ‘  if  this  was  his  defect,  it  was  a  defect 
in  his  original  frame  and  constitution.’  I  think  I 
could  prove  the  reverse,  from  different  passages  in 
the  three  Essays.  To  my  knowledge,  one  has  drawn 
tears  from  the  eyes  of  young  persons,  in  more  than  a 
single  instance.  It  is  Confirmation,  Chap.  IX.  §  6. 
I  rather  fear,  that  Clarke’s  e  original  frame  and  con¬ 
stitution’,  was  not  in  fault ;  but  that  he  had,  some¬ 
how  or  other,  ‘  left  his  first  love.’ 

I  look  forward  to  using  Clarke,  in  the  way  you  re¬ 
commend  ;  and  this  day  looked  out  for  his  sermon  on 
Genesis  xv.  6.,  but  could  not  find  it  in  the  edition  I 
have,  that  in  5  vols.  8vo.  I  often  feel  the  want  of 
solid  matter,  or  rather  topic,  so  thrown  into  skeleton, 
as  to  set  me  a  thinking ;  and  thence,  by  further  pro¬ 
cess,  to  excite  me  to  methodized  feeling,  if  I  may  so 
speak.  This  most  severe  weather  has  much  over¬ 
set  me  ;  it  has  interfered  with  any  thing  like  regular 
study.  However,  I  got  through  a  sermon,  last  week, 
on  4  Set  thy  house  in  order,  for  thou  shalt  die,  &c.’  ; 
for  which,  Nicole  on  Death,  afforded  some  valuable 
hints,  and  the  rest  came  into  my  own  mind.  There 
are,  I  believe,  some  good  ideas  in  it ;  but  there  is  a 
defect  in  arrangement,  and  other  defects  too,  which  I 
was  conscious  of  at  the  time,  but  unable,  from  illness, 
to  remedy.  What  you  call  my  researches,  have  been 
much  at  a  stand :  they  will,  however,  I  trust,  at  a 
more  favourable  season,  be  renewed  in  moderation. 
Meantime,  I  strive  to  amuse  and  improve  myself,  as 
far  as  morbidness  will  let  me  ;  and  have  taken  to  the 
plan  of  noting  down  my  little  reading  in  a  diary  ; 


320 


r 

which  I  find  satisfactory,  as  it  not  only  enables  me  to 
look  back  on  what  I  have  been  doing,  but  leads  me 
to  note  down  observations,  which  would  otherwise  be 
lost. 

What  a  charming  extract  from  our  excellent  friend’s 
letter!  She  is,  in  very  truth,  one  of  the  excellent 
upon  earth  ;  and,  in  reading  what  she  says,  I  could 
not  help  looking,  with  deep  humiliation,  into  my  own 
bosom  ;  for  the  very  best  I  can  say  of  myself  is,  that, 
for  a  long  time,  I  have  been  suffering  under  a  dead¬ 
ness,  and  a  religious  torpor,  I  fear  much  worse  than 
her’s,  without  the  consolation  that  I  feel  as  deeply 
sorry  for  it,  as  I  ought  to  be.  I  am  often  doubtful 
whether  I  do,  or  do  not  deceive  myself,  by  laying  it 
too  much  to  the  account  of  morbidness,  and  bodily 
malady.  This  much,  however,  I  am,  after  all,  willing 
to  believe,  that,  when  well,  there  is  nothing  I  so  much 
delight  in,  as  the  predominance  of  cordial  religious 
feeling ;  and  that,  when  ill,  I  am  not  able  to  delight 
in  any  thing. 

I  showed  the  passage  to - ,  with  which  he  was 

highly  gratified  :  but  then  told  me  smiling,  that  he 
believed,  if  all  were  known,  you  have  now  the  same 

uneasiness  about  him,  that  you  had  about - ;  and 

that  he  should  be  sorry  for  it,  being  conscious  there 
is  no  cause.  I  ventured  to  assure  him,  that  you  have 
no  such  uneasiness  ;  and  regretted  afterwards,  that  I 
had  not  thought  of  reading  him  what  you  say  ;  ‘  that 
you  have  the  comfort  of  thinking,  that,  with  him, 
you  have  no  secrecy.’  The  reason  why  I  did  not 
show  him  this  was,  that  it  happens  to  be  written  at 
the  top  of  the  last  page,  in  immediate  connection 
with  what  you  say  about  N. 

I  wrote,  last  week,  to - requesting  information 

about - charities  ;  for  we  wish  to  do  something  of 


321 


that  kind  here.  This  night  I  have  had  an  answer  ; 
but  I  should  just  tell  you,  that  I  had  slightly  men¬ 
tioned  my  studies,  but,  I  rather  believe,  without 
naming  the  books  ;  at  least,  without  naming  Plotinus  ; 
and,  now,  I  wish  to  give  an  extract  or  two,  which  I 
think  somewhat  curious. 

‘  I  was  particularly  glad  that  our  good  Archbishop 
is  setting  you  at  work  in  a  way  (the  charity  schemes), 
that  must  often  draw  you  off  from  that  sublime  gen¬ 
tleman,  Plotinus  ;  who  would  soon  make  you  soar  out 
of  sight  of  us  dull  mortals.’  Again,  at  the  close  :  .  . 

‘  I  have  been  looking  impatiently  for  your  sermon  ; 
which,  I  assure  you,  touched  the  weather-beaten 

feelings  of  the  veteran  Dr.  A — - ,  whose  praise 

as  much  bespeaks  the  powers  of  the  charmer,  as 
when 

4  Fell  Charybdis  murmured  hoarse  applause.’ 

Your  studies  are  likely  to  make  you  a  sublime  and 
persuasive  preacher ;  but  do  not  think  it  presumptuous 
in  me  to  say,  take  care  that  these  philosophers  don’t 
make  you  in  love  with  fairy  land ;  and,  with  their 
heroics,  make  you  look  down  on  the  humble,  contrite 
spirit,  with  which  God  delights  to  dwell.  However, 
in  saying  this,  it  is  under  the  full  conviction,  that 
whatever  be  your  studies,  they  have  made  you  mani¬ 
festly  useful ;  and  I  often  wish  you  could  infuse  some 
of  your  rich  thoughts  into  a  friend.  I  think,  at  the 
same  time,  these  platonists  have  a  strong  tincture  of 
enthusiasm  ;  as,  indeed,  it  must  be  impossible  for  un¬ 
inspired  man,  to  discuss  such  themes,  without  running 
a  little  wild.’ 

In  this,  there  are  very  handsome  compliments, 
more  than  I  merit,  much  more  :  but  such  as  his  good- 
natured  friendship  leads  him  to  make :  but  there  is 

VOL.  I.  Y 


322 

also  an  evident  persuasion,  that  I  am  on  the  high 
road  to  the  wildest  enthusiasm,  and  to  a  romantic  and 
proud  abstraction,  ill-suited  to  the  condition  of  man. 
This  does  not,  I  confess,  make  me  uneasy,  on  my  own 
account;  because  I  trust  I  occupy  no  fairy  regions, 
but  the  terra  firma  of  plain  good  sense ;  and  because 
I  never,  perhaps,  in  my  life,  was  led  to  estimate 
more  meanly,  my  own  talents,  and  acquirements. 
I  feel  that,  for  my  time  of  life,  I  am  rather  an 
ignorant  man ;  and  I  am  too  repeatedly  visited  by 
the  hand  of  God  incapacitating  me,  I  doubt  not  for 
my  good,  to  be  vain  of  my  powers  of  writing.  In 
truth,  they  are  not  worth  being  thought  of.  But  I 
do  feel  uneasy  about  our  friend :  for,  I  think  I  see, 
in  this  letter,  deeper  evidence  than  ever  of  a  rooted 
anti-fanaticism. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you,  that,  in  my  friend  M — — , 
I  continue  to  find  a  most  pleasant  and  satisfactory 
companion.  He,  Torrens,  and  I,  meet  in  my  room, 
every  Wednesday  evening,  to  read  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment.  We  began,  only  last  week,  with  St.  Mat- 
thew ;  but  are  to  begin  harmonizing  the  Gospels 
to-morrow.  We  refer  to  the  greek  text,  and  to  such 
commentators  as  I  have.  This  we  keep  entirely  to 
ourselves;  as,  from  one  quarter  at  least,  this  would 
be  liable  to  misrepresentation,  and  might  get  us  a 
name. 

Not  having  the  key  of  the  Library,  I  have  not  yet 
looked  at  Boyle ;  but  hope  soon  to  do  so. 

Yours  most  entirely, 

John  Jebb. 


828 


LETTER  45. 
To  the  Rev .  /.  Jebh . 


Dec.  10.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

1  ou  may  begin  to  wonder,  why  I  have  been  so  long 

in  acknowledging  your  last  letter.  The  truth  is,  I 

have  been  unfitted  for  writing  or  reading,  by  an 

unusual  complaint  in  my  eyes. 
####*# 

Your  letter  found  me  just  able  to  read  it;  and 
I  read  every  part  of  it  with  interest,  I  believe  I 
may  say,  with  fellow-feeling.  Your  way  of  thinking 
and  speaking  is  a  great  comfort  to  me :  not  because 
you  agree  with  me ;  that  would  be  a  wretched, 
miserable  satisfaction.  But  because  I  believe  you 
agree  with  immutable  truth ;  and  are  brought,  by 
the  good  hand  of  God,  within  the  harmonies  of  the 
universe.  I  soberly  rejoice  in  witnessing  such  a 
fact :  for,  if  there  be  joy  in  the  presence  of  the 
angels  of  God,  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  I 
cannot  but  think,  that  there  is  exceeding  great  joy, 
when  a  mind  is  attracted  by  the  magnetism  of  divine 
grace,  that  has  been  previously  fitted,  by  nature,  for 
imbibing  the  influence  (and  for  communicating  it 
too)  4  with  the  spirit,  and  with  the  understanding 
also.’ 

I  have  just  been  able  to  look  over  the  two 
Reviews ;  which,  I  believe,  we  both  take,  the 
Eclectic,  and  the  Christian  Observer.  I  am  pleased 
with  many  things  in  the  Eel.  Rev.  There  is  a 

y  2 


324 


good  deal  of  sound  sense,  and  wonderful  liberality. 
Mark,  particularly,  the  Review  of  Thornton  Abbey, 
and  of  Gordon’s  Hist,  of  Ireland.  That  Temple 
of  Truth,  must  be  a  great  book.  The  writer  may 
be  now  isolated  ;  but  he  was  not  always  so :  as  such 
opinions  as  he  conveys,  I  imagine,  are  seldom,  if 
ever,  the  indigenous  growth,  of  the  Ttj  a^ro^arri  of 
the  human  mind.  There  must  have  been  some 
seed,  if  not  some  scyon,  from  a  calvinist  nursery, 
in  order  to  produce  these  fruits :  but  what  I  mean 
to  observe  is,  that  the  reviewer  makes  some  good 
observations.  The  quotations,  however,  contain  some 
things,  that  make  me  wish  to  see  the  volume  itself. 

The  C.  O.  goes  on  in  a  strange  way:  cautious, 
almost  to  tepidity,  in  what  concerns  feeling ;  and 
stiff,  to  a  scholastic  nicety,  in  what  concerns  doc¬ 
trines.  And,  in  reviewing  books,  strangely  praising, 
where  I  think  little  praise  is  due ;  and  dwelling  on 
supposed  doctrinal  defects,  with  so  exclusive  an 
anxiety,  as  to  imply  a  sort  of  opiniative  pharisaism. 
I  wish  they  could  dwell  more  on  the  weightier  mat¬ 
ters  of  the  law ;  and  talk  in  less  technical  language. 

I  think  I  have  not  omitted  any  particular,  in 
either  your  directions,  or  wishes,  about  sending  the 
sermon,  Mr.  Greathead,  and  Hannah  More  excepted; 
to  both  of  whom  I  must  write  with  it,  and,  as  yet, 
my  eyes  have  disabled  me.  I  gave  one  to  M., 
telling  him  I  was  sure  you  would  wish  it.  I  gave 
one,  also,  to  Dr.  Perceval, 

I  am  glad  the  Archbishop  is  soon  coming  to  town. 
I  have  several  things  to  talk  to  him  about:  and  I 
love  to  talk  to  him,  because  he  is  uncommonly  right ; 
a  rara  avis,  both  in  head  and  heart. 

I  must  only  add,  that  I  am,  always,  most 

truly  and  affectionately,  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


mo 


LETTER  LI. 

To  A .  Knooc ,  Esq. 

Cashel,  Dec.  15.  1806. 

My  dear  Friend, 

That  unpleasant  complaint  in  your  eyes  would 
make  me  sincerely  uneasy  for  you,  if  I  did  not  think 
I  could  account  for  it,  by  the  almost  unexampled 
harshness  of  the  season.  Every  one  that  is  delicate, 
or  ailing,  has  suffered  in  some  shape ;  and  I  trust 
that  your  suffering  is  at  its  close.  I  have  been, 
myself,  far  from  well :  some  days,  worse,  perhaps, 
than  you  have  ever  seen  me  ;  though  that  is  saying 
a  bold  word.  But  I  am  thankful  that  I  now  feel 
convalescent ;  and,  if  there  should  be  a  continuance 
of  such  bracing  mornings  as  this,  I  trust  we  invalids 
may  look  forward  to  a  speedy  restoration. 

By  last  night’s  post,  I  received  a  present  of  Dr. 
Graves’s  consecration  sermon.  I  like  the  spirit  it 
displays  in  many  parts ;  especially  the  truly  catholic 
compliments  to  Doddridge,  pp.  14.  and  29.  The 
historical  sketch  of  God’s  providential  dispensations 
(p.  20.  25.)  appears  to  me  neat,  and,  in  some  places, 
eloquent ;  and  the  concluding  passage  of  the  whole, 
is,  at  once,  serious,  animated,  and  pathetic.  Yet, 
my  general  impression  is,  that  the  world  must  be 
easily  pleased,  if  this  production  adds  much  to  our 
friend’s  fame.  There  is  no  lucidus  ordo ;  the  topics 
are  almost  uniformly  common-place ;  and  neither 
enforced  with  energy,  nor  made  attractive  by 
graceful  composition.  There  is,  evidently,  good 

y  3 


326 


and  pious  intention  in  what  he  says  (p.  38  .  .  41.), 
about  the  practical  effects,  which  a  sincere  reception 
of  Christian  doctrines  should  produce  ;  but  is  it  not 
talking  about  the  matter,  and  about  it,  in  a  crude, 
unphilosophic,  uninfluential  way,  without  tracing  the 
connection  between  principle  and  practice,  and  es¬ 
pecially,  without  insisting  upon  the  necessity,  and 
divine  efficacy,  of  that  master  principle  of  love  ?  It 
is  not,  merely,  the  bare  reception  of  truth,  however 
sincerely  it  may  be  received,  that  is  adequate  to 
produce  genuine  Christian  tempers ;  yea,  or  even 
consistent  outward  practice.  To  this  mode  of  talk, 
I  am  the  less  friendly,  because  I  think  it  tends  to 
keep  up  in  the  world,  an  indistinct,  and  cloudy  view 
of  Christianity ;  which  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the  most 
operative  hindrances,  to  a  progress  towards  perfec¬ 
tion.  Throughout,  there  appear  to  me,  evident 
marks  of  haste  ;  and  I  much  doubt,  whether,  in  a 
single  sermon,  so  long  a  transcript  as  that  from 
Doddridge,  is  admissible.  I  think  I  can  trace  your 
correcting  hand,  in  what  is  said  about  episcopacy ; 
especially  in  p.  18.  But  in  p.  17*  it  strikes  me,  there 
is  an  inaccuracy,  in  saying  4  the  protestant  church, 
&c.’ ;  inasmuch  as  a  very  large  portion  of  the  pro¬ 
testant  church,  is  positively  chargeable  with  4  the 
anarchy  of  indiscriminate  equality.’  I  was  pleased 
with  the  introduction,  of  rationalizing  semi-christians, 
into  the  borrowed  passage  from  Doddridge,  p.  30. ; 
naturally  enough,  as  the  same  sentiment  is  given  in 
my  own  little  discourse. 

**###=*# 

I  had  lately  a  most  cordial  letter  from  Dr.  Hales, 
from  which  I  will  extract  for  you,  the  commendation 
of  my  sermon  :  considering  the  quarter  it  comes 
from,  I  think  you  will  be  gratified ;  and  you  under- 


327 


stand  my  motives  too  thoroughly,  to  impute  my 
sending  it  to  vanity.  ‘  I  have  read,’  says  he,  4  with 
great  pleasure,  and  I  trust  some  profit,  your  excel¬ 
lent  visitation  sermon  5  which  reflects  equal  credit 
to  the  head  and  the  heart  of  the  composer  ;  who 
must  have  deeply  felt  himselfi  what  he  so  forcibly 
and  pathetically,  and  I  will  add,  elegantly  as  well 
as  learnedly  inculcates,  without  unnecessary  dilation. 
I  wish  the  public  was  more  frequently  edified  by  such 
compositions,  on  such  occasions  y  which  are  generally 
considered  as  the  order  of  the  day,  and  an  opus 
operatum  on  the  part  of  the  preachers.  The  barren¬ 
ness  of  the  press  here,  in  the  important  article  of  ser¬ 
mons,  is  truly  deplorable ;  and  tends  much  to  the 
decay  of  religion  and  learning  among  the  priesthood  : 
and  I  commend  the  Archbishop,  and  your  clerical 
brethren,  for  engaging  you  to  print  your  discourse. 
While  you  are  thus  usefully  employed,  for  yourself \ 
and  the  public,  you  cannot  fail  to  attract  the  notice 
of  the  public,  and  strengthen  the  esteem  of  your 
friends/  This,  I  chiefly  value,  as  affording  a  testi¬ 
mony  to  our  ways  of  thinking,  from  a  person,  whose 
views  are  certainly  very  different,  and  who  is  too 
honest  to  say  more  than  he  feels. 

I  coincide  with  your  remarks  on  the  Reviews. 
But  I  must  observe,  that  in  the  C.  O.,  there  every 
now  and  then  appears,  something  very  ably  written  : 
for  instance,  in  two  of  the  late  numbers,  are  some 
masterly  strictures  on  the  Edinb.  Rev.  :  though 
doubtless  there  is  something  strangely  romantic  in 
the  supposition,  that,  without  some  next  to  mira¬ 
culous  conversion,  the  Edinburgh  reviewers  could 
become  powerful  advocates  of  Christianity.  The 
Eclectic  is  evidently  gaining  ground,  and  manifests 
an  excellent  spirit ;  some  things,  however,  do  not 

y  4 


3°28 


please  me.  In  the  last  two  numbers  is  contained  a 
review  of  Carr’s  Stranger  in  Ireland ;  which  seems 
to  proceed  from  some  very  sour  sectary  ;  from  one, 
too,  who  harps  in  with  the  general  cry  about  the 
state  of  Ireland,  without  well  knowing  what  he  says. 
His  general  censure  on  the  clergy  of  our  establish¬ 
ment,  with  the  exception,  I  suppose,  of  the  Ossorian 
clergy,  is  far  from  liberal ;  and  there  are,  in  the  first 
part  of  his  review,  some  not  very  good-natured 
observations,  on  the  charity  of  a  lady  in  the  county 

of - ,  whom  I  strongly  suspect  to  be  our  friend; 

nor  do  I  think  it  becomes  a  Christian,  and  a  strict 
one  too,  to  pronounce  so  unqualified  an  eulogium  on 
Mr.  Curran. 

I  have  been  much  struck,  much  gratified,  and  set 
not  a  little  a  thinking,  by  a  reperusal  of  Foster’s  Es¬ 
says.  That  man  is,  surely,  of  a  very  peculiar  mental 
frame.  See  what  he  says,  in  his  fourth  essay,  about 
Lucan’s  Episode  of  Vulteius,  (I  have  not  the  book 
now  by  me,  to  refer  to  the  page)  and  then  turn  to 
the  passage,  in  the  sixth  book  of  the  Pharsalia.  It 
is,  indeed,  tremendously  sublime  :  but,  then,  what 
must  be  the  temperament  of  that  soul,  which  could, 
even  for  a  moment,  sympathize  with  such  sentiments, 
as  are  there  expressed  ?  For  instance,  a  thousand 
men,  about  to  devote  themselves  to  death,  and  to 
become  mutually  the  executioners  of  each  other, 
wishing  that  their  parents  and  children  were  added 
to  the  sacrifice,  in  order  to  strike  a  deeper  terror 
into  the  foe :  and  this  savage  heroism,  the  result  of 
a  mistaken  principle  of  honour,  which  disdained 
captivity.  If  Mr.  F.  could  feel  all  this,  it  is  not 
wonderful,  that  he  expatiates  on  the  anti-christian 
tendency  of  classical  literature.  But  I  am  much 
mistaken,  if,  not  merely  the  decided  Christian,  but 


even  the  generous  young  student,  who  has  not  yet 
begun  to  think  of  religion,  however  enthusiastic  his 
admiration  of  sublime  poetry,  would  not  soberly  con¬ 
gratulate  himself,  on  reading  this  terrific  passage, 
that  he  lives  in  an  age,  when  sounder  views  prevail, 
even  amidst  the  horrors  of  war.  .  . 

(  Unfinished .) 


LETTER  LII. 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq . 


Cashel,  April  10.  1807. 

My  dear  Sir, 

#  #  *  *  *  #  # 

#  #  #  #  *  #  # 

I  have  been  reading  some  of  Macarius’  homilies,  and 
think  them  truly  wonderful  for  his  day  and  circum¬ 
stances.  The  manner  is  not  always  judicious,  and 
there  is  perhaps  too  great  a  fondness  for  allegorizing : 
still,  however,  the  introspection,  the  spirituality,  and, 
if  we  may  so  speak,  the  heavenward  views  which  one 
meets  with  in  every  page,  make  me  esteem  it  a  trea¬ 
sure.  Its  very  defects  have  had  to  me  their  use,  for 
every  failure  I  observe  in  his  allegorical  illustra¬ 
tions,  made  me  more  deeply  sensible  of  that  divine 
wisdom  which  contrived  the  parables  of  the  new 
testament,  with  such  matchless  aptitude,  at  once,  to 
individual  cases,  and  to  the  condition  of  the  Christian 
church. 

I  learned,  two  days  ago  by  the  newspaper,  that  the 


330 


day  is  fixed  for  the  sermon.  Your  omission  I  can 
very  readily  excuse,  and  indeed  feel  that  I  did  not 
deserve  to  be  thought  of,  as  I  should  myself  have 
written  before  to  you.  The  truth  is,  I  was  not  very 
well,  and  when  in  that  state,  you  know,  I  cannot  exert 
myself. 

Notes  and  ideas  have  somewhat  increased  for  the 
sermon,  but  I  have  not  yet  begun  its  composition.  I 
fear  I  shall  do  hurt  in  the  cause,  and  discredit  to  my¬ 
self  ;  both  which  I  should  deeply  regret,  on  other 
than  selfish  grounds.  However,  I  shall  endeavour  to 
proceed  to  do  my  best,  with  a  calm  reliance  on  aid 
from  a  higher  source.  I  purpose  leaving  this  for 
town  on  Monday  se’nnight ;  not  liking  to  leave  my 
journey  to  the  week  before,  lest  I  should  get  cold, 
which  I  generally  find  travelling  gives  me,  and  not 
have  time  to  recruit  before  the  dreaded  day.  I  hope 
to  bring  up  my  sermon  quite  finished,  or  nearly  so. 
Pray  do  write  me  an  early  account  of  the  proceedings 
of  this  day,  and  I  should  not  be  sorry  to  know  what 
has  been  the  opinion,  of  those  whose  judgment  I 
would  respect,  as  to  my  little  sermon. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Sir, 

Ever  your  most  grateful 

and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


831 


LETTER  LIII. 

To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 

Dublin,  April  20.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  hope  you  have  escaped  the  fit  of  illness,  that  you 
apprehended  j  though  certainly  the  state  of  the 
weather,  makes  me  fear  the  reverse.  I  have  come  in 
for  my  full  share  of  depressing  influences ;  but  I  am 
beginning  to  look  up  ;  and  hopeful,  that  on  my  re¬ 
turn  to  Cashel,  which  I  now  rather  look  to  with  plea¬ 
sure,  I  shall  be  able  to  pursue  my  interrupted  studies 
with  new  relish ;  and  to  write  you  something  like, 
‘Extraits  raisonn6s  de  mes  lectures/  There  is,  as¬ 
suredly,  much  of  what  is  ‘  flat,  stale,  and  unprofit¬ 
able’,  in  a  lounginglife  ;  yet  such  a  life,  have  I  been 
lately,  constrained,  I  hope  by  malady,  rather  than 
reduced  by  inclination,  to  lead.  Your  removal  to 

B - ,  has  made  this  fact  stare  me  in  the  face ;  for 

I  must  say,  that,  without  you,  Dublin  appears  a  blank 
to  me  ;  and  hence,  I  have  been  made  to  feel  the 
necessity  of  deeper,  and  more  internal  sources  of 
present  enjoyment,  than  illness  has  often  left  in  my 
power,  of  late  weeks,  I  may  almost  say,  months. 

The  most  desirable  effect  of  returning  health,  I 
take  to  be,  the  power  of  having  the  faculties  gently 
exercised,  and  the  affections  happily  employed,  even 
under  the  pressure  of  malady  ?  if  it  were  once  thus 
with  me,  I  should  feel  myself  transported,  as  it  were, 
into  a  new  element ;  and  may  I  not  hope,  that  this 
will  be  the  result  of  prayer,  and  of  a  patient  course  of 


33<2 


dependence  on  him  who  careth  for  me  ?*  I  do  hope, 
my  good  friend,  that  it  will :  and  so  hoping,  I  am 
disposed,  rather,  to  look  forward  cheerfully  to  the 
future,  than  with  despondency  to  the  past.  At  this 
moment,  indeed,  I  feel  cause  for  encouragement. 
My  bodily  frame  is  far  from  well,  yet  I  am  writing 
a  letter  to  you  ;  an  exertion,  I  am  sensible  I  could 
not  have  made,  at  any  time  in  the  last  six  weeks. 
You  know  how  I  was  distressed,  in  writing  sermons 
which  were  indispensable ;  but  the  voluntary  exer¬ 
tion,  necessary  in  writing  a  letter,  was  more  than  I 
could  have  commanded :  but  what  is  now  happily 
begun,  I  trust  will  gradually  improve. 

Of  course  you  will  offer  my  best  and  warmest 
remembrances  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  L.  I  felt,  at  leav¬ 
ing  B.,  far  more  than  I  could  express  ;  and,  though 
sensible  that  something  should  be  said  by  me,  the 
power  of  utterance  was  almost  taken  away.  You, 
however,  know  the  extent  of  my  feelings;  and  on 
you  I  depend  for  saying  that,  which  I  trust  some¬ 
thing  better  than  awkwardness,  disqualified  me  from 
expressing.  Might  I  hope  for  a  few  lines,  in  the 
course  of  this  week  ?  Early  in  the  next,  I  think  of 
taking  my  departure  for  Cashel. 

Yours  always  most  affectionately, 

John  J ebb. 

•  The  last  seven  years  of  the  Bishop’s  life,  serve  as  a  delightful  comment  on 
this  passage.  Never  was  the  prayer  of  ‘  an  honest  and  good  heart  ’  more  signally 
answered.  .  .  Ed. 


333 


LETTER  46. 

To  the  Rev .  J .  Jebh . 

BellevQe,  April  28.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Your  letter  gave  me  heartfelt  pleasure.  I  enter 
into  your  feelings,  perhaps,  as  much  as  any  one 
human  being,  can  enter  into  the  feelings  of  another ; 
and  while  I  cannot  but  feel  sympathetic  pain,  on 
some  accounts,  I  do  assure  you,  I  am  more  than  in¬ 
demnified  by  pleasure,  on  other  accounts.  You  and 
I,  pleasantly  for  ourselves,  have  certainly  an  uncom¬ 
mon  agreement  of  mind,  for  two  such  independent 
thinkers.  I  actually  anticipated  some  of  your  lead¬ 
ing  observations,  respecting  yourself;  and  I  parted 
from  you  with  less  abatement  of  satisfaction,  because 
I  thought  it  likely  your  comparative  solitude,  might 
lead  you  to  useful  reflections.  We  all  need  the  in¬ 
structions  of  Providence ;  and  may  we  not  believe, 
that  it  is  particularly  grateful  to  divine  goodness, 
that  we  should  receive,  with  such  readiness,  the  mere 
intimations  of  Providence,  as  to  leave  no  necessity 
for  resorting  to  severity  with  us?  I  do  rejoice,  that 
I  see,  in  you,  the  very  disposition  1  speak  of ;  and 
the  more,  because  I  conceive  no  surer  mark  could 
be,  of  ‘  all  things  working  together  for  good.*  Yes, 
my  good  friend,  there  is  no  hope  you  entertain,  in 
which  you  are  not,  as  it  appears  to  me,  most  justly, 
I  would  almost  say,  irrefragably  founded.  Indeed,  I 
believe  the  sun  is  not  more  surely  fixed  in  the  centre, 
than  you  are  warranted  in  the  matter  and  substance, 


334 


of  all  your  consolatory  anticipations.  I  trust  you 
will  be  made  great  use  of,  in  this  world ;  but  the 
nobler  the  purpose  any  instrument  is  destined  to,  the 
more  elaborate  must  be  the  preparation.  The  uses 
you  are  to  serve,  may  require,  not  only  a  discipline 
for  your  heart,  which  I  do  think,  you  are  happily 
advanced  in  (though  neither  you,  nor  I,  nor  any  one, 
can  ever  so  advance,  as  to  have  any  less  urgent  mo¬ 
tive  for  advancing,  farther  and  farther)  ;  but  a  disci¬ 
pline  for  your  mind,  for  the  purpose  of  giving  you, 
what,  perhaps,  you  naturally  most  need,  a  certain 
suppleness  in  your  mental  powers,  by  virtue  of  which, 
they  will  bend  to  all  occasions  and  subjects,  with  an 
ease  and  readiness,  beyond  what  you  have  yet  ex¬ 
perienced.  In  my  humble  opinion,  this  is  what, 
hitherto,  you  have  most  wanted  ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  what  you  have  already  a  comparative  portion 
of.  You  will,  however,  I  conceive,  have  much  more  : 
and  the  possession  of  it,  will  richly  remunerate  you, 
both  in  self  enjoyment,  and  in  increased  usefulness, 
for  all  you  suffer,  during  the  season  of  training. 

What  you  say  of  our  common  acquaintance,  I  fear 
I  must  subscribe  to.  But  it  is  a  subject  for,  I  would 
say  for  want  of  a  better  word,  curious  inquiry,  how 
he  will  go  on ;  for  his  look  shows  an  unsettled,  and 
dissatisfied  mind.  He  has  had  feelings,  which  from 
the  motives  that  made  Demas  forsake  St.  Paul,  I  fear 
he  has  not  yielded  to.  But,  after  such  feelings,  no 
man  is  exactly  the  same  thing.  ‘  If  the  light  that 
is  in  you  be  darkness,  how  great  is  that  darkness!’ 
I  cannot  but  think,  that  the  strictness  of  the  plan, 
which  you  and  I  think  the  right  one,  has  disposed 
him  to  listen  to  doctrinal  objections  to  it,  which,  had 
*  his  eye  been  single  ’,  as  our  Saviour  expresses  it,  he 
would  have  seen  to  be  foundationless,  as,  ‘  a  dream 


when  one  awaketh  ! !  4  And  you  that  will  sleep  on  ’, 

Archbishop  Leighton,  says,  4  may  ;  but  sure  I  am, 
when  you  come  to  your  death-bed,  if  possibly  you 
awake  then,  then  shall  you  look  back  with  sad  regret, 
upon  whatever  you  most  esteemed,  and  gloried  in, 
under  the  sun.  As  that  luxurious  king  caused  to 
paint  on  his  tomb,  two  fingers,  as  sounding,  one 
upon  another,  with  that  word.  All  is  not  worth  so 
much, 4  Non  tanti  est.’  I  know  not  how  men  make 
shift  to  satisfy  themselves ;  but  take  a  sober,  and 
awakened  Christian,  and  set  him  in  the  midst  of  the 
best  of  all  things  that  are  here ;  .  .  his  heart  would 
burst  with  despair  of  satisfaction,  were  it  not  for  a 
hope,  that  he  hath,  beyond  all  that  this  poor  world 
either  attains,  or  is  seeking  for !  ’  How  infinitely 
true !  and,  therefore,  how  emphatically  miserable  is 
he,  that  has  felt  any  of  the  dawning  of  this  day-spring 
from  on  high  in  his  heart,  and,  from  some  baseness 
of  soul,  yielded  to,  instead  of  being  instantly  sup¬ 
pressed,  shrinks  back  from  the  light,  and  strives  to 
shroud  himself  in  darkness  !  I  suppose  it  is  a  case  so 
deeply  dreadful,  supposing  the  fact,  which  in  the  par¬ 
ticular  instance  I  presume  not  to  affirm,  that  few  are 
capable  of  fathoming  it.  Where  we  have  any  reason 
to  think  it  does  occur,  we  may  observe  and  examine 
without  any  undue  judging;  and  may  exercise  our 
reason  as  on  any  other  fact,  without  the  least  unkind¬ 
ness  to  the  party ;  but  with  solid  instruction  to  our¬ 
selves,  and,  perhaps,  benefit  to  others. 

Now  think,  and  tell  me  candidly,  without  hesi¬ 
tating  to  say  one  word  of  all  that  shall  be  in  your 
heart ;  would  you  prefer  going  to  England,  by 
yourself,  and  so  being  without  clog  or  hindrance, 
which  way  soever  you  might  chuse  to  turn  ?  or  would 
you,  in  preference,  wish  me  to  think  seriously,  on 


336 


what  I  was  talking  of.  Before  I  set  myself  to  weigh 
the  question  of  convenience,  which  I  suppose  I  may 
manage  some  way  or  other,  I  desire,  first,  to  fix  the 
previous  question,  .  .  eligibility.  And,  therefore,  I 
Wish  you  to  consult  all  your  feelings ;  and  answer 
without  fear,  favour,  or  affection.  Most  cordially  do 
I  wish  you  thus  to  determine  it. 

Believe  me,  always, 

most  faithfully  and  affectionately  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  LIV. 
To  A .  Knox ,  Esq . 


Cashel,  June  13.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

You  may,  by  this  time,  be  somewhat  curious  to 
know,  what  is  become  of  your  pupil ;  and  perhaps, 
not  a  little  apprehensive,  that  his  old  complaints  have 
stopped  his  hand,  by  overwhelming  his  mind.  I  am, 
however,  thankful,  that  there  has  been  no  unusual 
cause  for  complaint,  rather,  indeed,  the  reverse  ;  as, 
notwithstanding  some  very  searching  changes  in  the 
weather,  I  think  I  have  more  than  maintained,  the 
ground  I  had  gained  wdien  I  left  town. 

My  studies  and  pursuits  have  hardly  been  resumed. 
I  have  yet  done  little  more,  than  dilate  my  first  litur¬ 
gical  sermon,  into  two.  The  introduction  was  given 
last  Sunday  ;  and  I  find,  was  better  understood  and 
relished,  than  I  had  any  expectation  of.  To-morrow, 
I  am  to  give  a  general  view  of  the  liturgy ;  and  I  am 


337 


doubtful  whether  to  give  two,  or  four  discourses 
more ;  it  may  be  best  to  decide  by  the  reception  I 
meet  with,  in  the  attempt  of  to-morrow. 

I  have  turned  over  in  my  mind,  and  with  some 
care  and  thought,  the  question  of  visiting  England, 
this  year.  If  it  were  clearly  necessary  for  my  health, 
all  counter-considerations  ought  certainly  to  yield  ; 
but,  as  I  trust  this  is  not  the  case,  I  must  think  it 
right,  to  relinquish,  for  the  present,  what  would  be 
doubtless  a  high  gratification.  Whitty’s  settlement 
in  Cashel,  will  not  only  give  me  pleasant  society,  but 
relieve  me  from  an  anxious  oppression  of  mind,  about 
a  weekly  duty  ;  and  who  knows,  but  that  the  removal 
of  this  weight,  may  enable  me  to  preach  every  Sun¬ 
day?  At  all  events,  should  I  now  occasionally  feel 
unwell,  I  may,  with  ease  and  satisfaction  of  mind, 
consult  my  health,  and  change  the  scene  for  a  few 
days.  Now,  things  being  so,  after  an  absence  of 
between  four  and  five  months,  I  think  it  will  gratify 
the  Archbishop  that  I  should  remain  till  next  win¬ 
ter,  on  the  spot  of  duty :  and  I,  too,  shall  feel, 

‘  mihi  carior/  while  among  my  books ;  and  endea¬ 
vouring  to  pursue  with  regularity,  a  course  of  mode¬ 
rate  mental  exercise,  in  which  the  exercise  of  the 
body  shall  not  be  neglected. 


VOL.  i. 


z 


338 


LETTER  4,7- 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehh. 


Dublin,  June  19.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  wished  to  have  replied  sooner  to  your  most  accept¬ 
able  letter ;  but  I  have  been  variously  impeded  :  in 

the  first  instance,  by  its  following  me  to  B - ,  after 

I  had  left  it;  and  since,  by  avocations  not  easily  to 
have  been  surmounted. 

As  to  the  deanery,  I  most  entirely  accord  with 
your  own  thoughts,  on  the  subject.  I  think  that, 
unless  something  were  to  come  along  with  it,  it  is 
not  for  you.  As  to  the  Archbishop’s  wish,  no  one 
could  respect  it  more  than  I,  but  he  would  not  in¬ 
tentionally  wish  your  discomfort,  and  should  he  un¬ 
intentionally  do  so,  his  radical  disposition  will  be  best 
consulted,  by  your  declining  the  overture. 

I  am  sincerely  glad  that  your  health  is  in  such  a 
state,  as  to  make  Cashel  the  place  of  your  preference 
for  the  summer.  This  being  so,  I  most  entirely  ap¬ 
prove  of  the  motives  on  which  you  pronounce  your¬ 
self  stationary ;  only,  if  I  should  go  to  D.,  which  he 
kindly  wishes,  and  all  things  occurring  favourably,  I 
will  not  unkindly  refuse,  and  he  should,  which  is 
morally  certain,  wish  you  to  meet  me  there,  you  must 
not  derange  that  plan.  The  other,  I  own  to  you,  I 
had  so  deranged  myself,  as  to  have  resolved  that  you 
only,  or  some  other  unforeseen,  and  greatly  strong 
consideration,  should  take  me  to  England. 

- - sets  out  on  tuesday.  I  cannot  help  saying,  ‘  I 


339 


put  him  under  your  wing.’  He  is,  if  I  do  not  greatly 
mistake,  worthy  your  notice  and  attention ;  and  as 
he  will  be  c  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land’,  he  will 
need  it  in  a  variety  of  instances.  He  is  an  innocent, 
good  youth,  with  excellent  sense;  solid  judgment; 
true  teachableness ;  and,  I  trust,  sincere  piety.  I 
rejoice  that  the  Archbishop  is  his  patron, 

I  thank  you  sincerely,  for  the  reference  to  Nicole. 
I  had  got  Priestly,  the  day  before  I  received  yours ; 
and  I,  too,  turned  to  those  sermons.  I  began  with 
the  second,  and  have  read  it.  What  surprizes  me,  is, 
that,  with  respect  to  devotion,  the  right  frame  of 
mind,  self-conquest,  &c.  &c.  he  seems  to  me,  to  talk 
much  better,  than  the  whole  school  of  unspiritual 
orthodoxy.  The  truth  is,  I  think  that  Priestly,  in 
his  youth,  had  something  experimental ;  from  which 
he  afterwards  departed,  erroneously,  not  wickedly. 
He,  therefore,  only  dimmed,  (greatly,  to  be  sure,) 
but  did  not,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  extinguish  the 
fire  which  had  [once  burnt].  To  this,  specially,  I 
attribute  that  raciness,  which  [he  must]  have  felt ; 
and  which,  with  good  reason,  suggested  your  re¬ 
marks,  on  the  blessing  implied  in  revealed  religion. 

#  #  *  #  #  # 

Most  truly  yours,  at  all  times, 

A.  K. 


340 


LETTER  LV. 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq. 

Cashel,  June  21.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Though  this  is  Sunday  morning,  yet,  as  I  mean  to 
write  nothing  unserious ,  and  do  not  know  when  I 
shall  have  time  to  write  again,  I  must  break  through 
an  ordinary  rule,  to  reply  to  your  letter.  It  gives 
me  great  pleasure,  that  you  coincide  with  me.  I 
was  wavering,  through  something  which  came  from 

- ;  but  I  had  determined,  that  nothing  should  be 

said  upon  it  by  me. 

My  health,  thank  God,  is  obviously,  and  most 
comfortably  mending.  I  feel  a  returning  relish  for 
composition,  such  as  I  do  not  recollect  to  have  ex¬ 
perienced,  for  a  great  length  of  time.  The  Liturgy 
has  already  swelled  in  my  hands,  to  four  sermons  ; 
and  will,  I  think,  afford  two  more.*  When  you  see 
what  has  been  done,  I  know  not  whether  you  will 
agree  with  me,  that  division,  and  expansion,  have 
much  improved  the  original  stock.  What  is  most 
comfortable,  is,  that  I  am  now  actually  a  sermon 
before-hand,  having  last  night  finished  one  for  next 
Sunday:  this  is  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  had  so 
much  to  say.  Next  Sunday’s  sermon  is  on  the  bap¬ 
tismal  service ;  and  is  almost  entirely  new.  The 
Archbishop  told  me,  that  last  Sunday’s  sermon, 
4  was  the  best  he  had  ever  heard.’  It  was  little 

*  These  Sermons  on  the  Liturgy,  have  been  since  published  by  Bishop  Jebb, 
in  ‘  Practical  Theology,’  having  received  his  final  revision.  .  .  Ed. 


341 


more  than  the  second  half  of  my  first  Dublin  dis¬ 
course,  with  a  peroration  added.  All  that  I  have 
now  been  saying,  would,  to  any  other  than  yourself, 
be  rank  impertinence  ;  but  I  know  how  you  will 
receive,  and  feel  it.  The  truth  is,  I  am  full  of  grati¬ 
tude  to  a  good  and  gracious  God,  for  these  glimpses 
of  restoration ;  at  the  same  time,  that  I  do  not  wish 
to  be  over-sanguine :  if  he  sees  fit,  he  doubtless  may 
suffer  me  to  be  again  afflicted,  and  that  soon.  But  I 
trust  he  will,  also,  enable  me  to  endure  with  patience 
and  cheerfulness,  in  that  case,  as  I  hope  he  is  now 
enabling  me  to  rejoice  with  moderation. 

I  shall  have  great  pleasure  in  a  trip  to  R.,  if  all 

matters  answer.  - engaged  me  to  pay  him  a 

visit,  some  time  in  the  summer ;  and,  of  course,  he 
would  wish  that  time  to  coincide  with  your  visit.  As 
matters  are  now  arranged  in  the  cathedral,  I  shall 
have  no  scruple.  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  serve  and 

cherish - ;  on  my  own  account,  this  will  be  an 

advantage ;  for  I  do  believe  he  is  truly  estimable. 
As  a  young  man  for  whom  you  are  interested,  I  must 
feel  him  to  be  a  kind  of  brother;  and  I  myself  have 
been  ‘  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land.’  I  have  many 
things  to  say  to  you  ;  but  I  do  not  like  needlessly  to 
secularize  this  day.  My  reason  for  writing  now,  is, 
that  I  expect  to  be  fully  occupied  the  next  four  days, 
by  preparing  a  course,  in  which  to  examine  the  can¬ 
didates  for  orders. 

Farewell,  my  dear  friend, 

Most  truly  and  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


342 


LETTER  LVI. 
To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  June  25.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

You  are,  possibly,  somewhat  anxious  to  hear  from 
me :  I  mean,  at  this  present  writing ;  for  I  presume 
that  the  appearance  of  this  letter,  can  leave  little 
room  for  anxiety  on  that  score.  The  fact  is,  my 
health  and  spirits  have  not  been  such  as  to  qualify 
me  for  correspondence  ;  though  I  have  not  been  con¬ 
fined,  even  for  a  single  day.  I  have,  however,  to¬ 
wards  the  close  of  this  week,  experienced  something 
of  revival ;  and  have  been  enabled  to  read  with 
alacrity :  upon  this,  you  know,  writing  is  an  ad¬ 
vance  ;  and  my  pen  turns,  as  it  were  instinctively,  to 
you. 

The  duties  of  Cashel,  I  have  found  somewhat  op* 
pressive.  A  cold  disabled  Mr.  W.  from  affording 
aid,  either  in,  or  out  of  church.  The  service  of  the 
cathedral,  is  more  than  my  strength  is  equal  to,  and 
the  regiment  quartered  here,  is,  in  itself,  a  parish. 

I  do  not,  however,  wish,  that  W -  should  know  I 

have  suffered  any  inconvenience.  It  was  absolutely 
his  duty  to  follow  Dr.  Perceval’s  advice  ;  and  of  all 
persons,  I,  surely,  should  be  the  last  to  complain  of 
any  little  additional  burthen,  who  have  myself  been 
obliged,  from  a  similar  cause,  to  throw  so  much  duty 
on  my  friend  Whitty.  You  may  conclude  that  I 
have  been  unable  to  compose  sermons.  I  have  been 
repeating  some  of  a  year  old ;  but  such  as  I  think 


343 


not  only  bear,  but  require  repetition.  The  sermon 
on  Trinity  Sunday,  so  far  as  I  can  collect,  gave 
great  satisfaction. 

Do  you  remember  P - *’s  question,  about  St. 

John  xiv.  28.,  in  the  garden  at  B - ;  and  your  dis¬ 

satisfaction  with  my  answer,  . .  that  the  inferiority  was 
in  the  human  nature  merely ;  and  my  apprehension 
that,  in  your  resolution  of  the  difficulty,  you  ap¬ 
proached  too  nearly  the  camp  of  the  arians?  All 
this  lately  so  came  into  my  thoughts,  as  to  put  me 
upon  inquiries,  which  I  trust  are  making  me  a  still 
more  decided  athanasian  than  ever ;  and  on  far 
more  solid  grounds.  I  have  seen  enough  to  con¬ 
vince  me,  that  your  mode  of  explaining  the  supe¬ 
riority  of  the  Father,  is  the  true  and  catholic  mode : 
and  that  my  answer,  sanctioned  though  it  be  by 
great  names,  and,  among  the  rest,  by  John  Wesley, 
would  1.  expose  our  Saviour  to  the  charge  of  egregi¬ 
ous  trifling ;  for,  could  it,  for  a  moment,  be  doubted, 
that  God  the  Father  is  greater  than  the  man  Christ  ? 
To  say  that  the  expression,  greater ,  says  Gregory 
Nazianzen,  « is  to  be  understood  with  respect  to  the 
human  nature,  would  be  true,  indeed,  but  trivial. 
For  what  wonder,  if  God  be  greater  than  man?’ 
2.  My  mode  of  interpretation,  would  deprive  us  of 
the  power  of  overthrowing  the  socinians,  on  their 
own  ground.  (  Christ,’  say  they,  ‘  is  not  God  ;  for 
none  can  be  greater  than  God.’  To  this,  we  answer, 
*  Christ  could  not  here  speak  of  himself,  as  man 
only :  for  who  can  doubt  that  God  is  greater  than 
man  ?’  3.  To  say  that  Christ  speaks  merely  of  his 

human  nature,  in  this  passage,  would,  I  conceive, 
savour  of  the  nestorian  heresy.  For,  would  it  not 
militate  against  the  article  of  the  Athanasian  Creed, 
‘  He  is  not  two ,  but  one  Christ.’  «  The  Father  is 

z  4 


344 


greater  than  1 : 9  that  is,  evidently,  4  than  I,  the  one 
Christ  .  .  God  and  man,  ®sa.vQ$a)7rog.9  He  could,  to 
use  the  illustration  afforded  in  our  Athanasian  Creed, 
no  more  reasonably  say,  4  than  I,  the  man  Christ/ 
than  a  man  could  say,  such  a  being  is  greater  than  I, 
that  is,  4  than  my  flesh/  not  4  than  my  reasonable 
soul/  If  the  illustration  of  our  creed  be  fair,  when 
Christ  speaks  of  himself  he  must  mean  the  ©savfyso)- 
7 rog :  just  as  a  man,  speaking  of  himself  means  4 the 
reasonable  soul  and  flesh.’  This  last  argument,  I 
have  not  met  in  any  author ;  and  am,  therefore,  dif¬ 
fident  about  it.  But,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  from 
what  I  have  thought  and  read  on  the  subject,  the  in¬ 
feriority  of  the  Son  to  the  Father,  is  twofold.  1.  As 
being  Son  :  that  is,  as  having  a  derived,  though  eter¬ 
nal  existence  :  whereas  the  Father  has  an  underived 
existence.  The  one  is,  A uroQsog :  the  other,  Qeog  sx 
0£ou.  2.  K olt9  oixovofAioiv.  That  is,  as  sent  by  the 

Father  ;  as  having  assumed  the  mediatorial  office,  as 
having  humbled  himself.  Each  of  these  grounds  of 
inferiority,  is  maintained  by  the  most  orthodox  fathers, 
ante  and  post  Nicene  :  probably,  however,  the  second 
is  only  a  consequence  of  the  first. 

As  to  the  equality,  which  we  both  zealously  assert, 
it  is  an  equality  of  essence,  a  co-eternity. 

I  have  derived  much  satisfaction,  from  these  in¬ 
quiries.  In  feeling,  I  was,  before,  an  orthodox, 
catholic  Christian ;  but,  perhaps,  I  was  ill  established, 
in  the  reasons  of  my  athanasian  faith.  I  trust  that, 
through  the  Divine  blessing  on  my  studies,  I  shall 
soon  be  able  to  render  a  better  answer,  than  hereto¬ 
fore.  One  point,  I  view  with  complacency ;  namely, 
that  I  trust  my  researches  begin  at  the  right  end,  .  . 
with  plain  texts  of  Scripture,  and  with  the  ancient 
catholic  worthies :  not  with  wire-drawn,  metaphysical 


345 


reasonings ;  nor  with  the  Clarkes,  the  Lockes,  and 
the  Ben  Mordecais. 

A  few  evenings  ago,  I  was  amusing  myself  with 
the  Thyestes  of  Seneca,  and  was  struck  by  what  is, 
perhaps,  after  all,  but  a  fanciful  resemblance,  to  the 
parallels  of  Hebrew  poetry ;  and  what,  at  all  events, 
can  have  arisen  only  from  the  affectation  of  anti¬ 
thesis,  for  which  that  author,  the  poet,  no  less  than 
the  philosopher,  is  proverbial.  Does  the  following 
passage,  in  one  of  the  choruses,  distribute  itself 
into  two  triplets,  and  two  couplets,  as  I  have  marked 
them  ? 


Vos,  quibus  rector  maris  atque  terrae 
Jus  dedit  magnum  necis  atque  vitae, 
Ponite  inflatos,  tumidosque  vultus. 
Quicquid  a  vobis  minor  extimescit, 
Major  hoc  vobis  dominus  minatur, 
Omne,  sub  regno  graviore,  regnum  est. 
Quern  dies  vidit  veniens  superbum, 
Hunc  dies  vidit  fugiens  jacentem. 
Nemo  confidat  nimium  secundis, 

Nemo  desperet  meliora,  lapsis.* 


} 

} 


} 

} 


Whether  the  resemblance  be  a  mere  fancy,  or  not, 
the  lines  are  worth  transcribing.  The  second  triplet, 
especially,  contains  a  very  deep  philosophy. 

*  Ye,  whom  the  Lord  of  all  things  here  beneath, 

Hath  placed  high  arbiters  of  life  and  death, ^ 

Lay  haughty  thoughts,  and  lofty  looks  aside, 

With  all  the  panoply  of  human  pride  : 

What,  from  your  wrath,  the  subject  nations  dread, 

A  mightier  master  threatens  o’er  your  head ; 

And  every  hand  that  earthly  sceptre  sways, 

The  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords,  obeys  ! 

Whom  the  day’s  dawn  saluted  lord  of  all, 

The  evening  shades  have  seen  that  tyrant  fall : 

In  prosperous  fortune,  then,  let  no  man  trust ; 

Let  none  despair,  though  prostrate  in  the  dust. 


346 


I  had  a  beautiful,  and  most  kind  letter  from 
Mrs.  L. ;  for  which  I  beg  you  will  have  the  good¬ 
ness,  along  with  my  affectionate  remembrances,  to 
present  my  most  grateful  thanks.  I  rejoice  in  the 
thought  of  so  soon  seeing  our  incomparable  Arch¬ 
bishop.  By  the  way,  if  you  have  a  fair  opening, 
when  you  see  him  in  Dublin,  I  should  be  very  glad,  if 
you  would  feel  no  objection  to  sounding  his  Grace, 
on  the  subject  of  my  brother-in-law,  McCormick.* 
Independently  of  my  very  earnest  wishes,  for  the 
advantage  of  poor  McCormick,  and  his  large  family, 
I  must  honestly  own,  that  selfish  motives  do  operate. 
In  a  land  of  strangers,  in  sickness,  and  in  nervous¬ 
ness,  I  should  be  wondrously  revived,  by  the  sweets 
of  family  intercourse.  I  should  not,  however,  look 
for  any  advantage  for  my  friend  and  relation,  or  any 
gratification  to  myself,  at  the  expense  of  that  great 
cause,  which  should  be  paramount.  But,  I  soberly 
think,  and  can  conscientiously  declare  my  opinion, 
that,  as  a  clergyman  and  a  gentleman,  Mr.  McCor- 
mick  would  prove  an  acquisition  to  the  diocese  ;  I 
am  even  sanguine  enough  to  believe,  that  he  would 
greatly  improve,  by  being  transplanted,  to  what,  I 
humbly  trust,  is  a  flourishing  ecclesiastical  nursery. 

For  myself,  I  have  now  to  tell  you,  that  my 
illnesses,  and  weaknesses,  have  been  making  me 
better  acquainted,  with  the  domestic  enemies  I  have 
to  expel.  ‘  Yet  not  I.’  How  often  have  I  been 
sinking  under  supposed  unkindness  in  another,  where 
all  the  fault  was  in  my  own  sick  brain !  I  trust  the 
habitual  recollection  of  these  past  discoveries,  may 
be  the  means  of  assisting  me  to  chase  away  future 

*  The  late  Rev.  Joseph  McCormick,  rector  of  Loogh  Brickland  in  the  diocese 
of  Dromore.  .  ,  Ed. 


347 


phantoms.  Pray  do  comfort  me,  with  a  letter ; 
and,  if  you  can,  suggest  a  text,  that  may  suggest  a 
sermon. 

Yours  ever,  most  gratefully 

and  affectionately, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  48. 
To  the  Rev .  J,  Jebb, 


August,  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

What  a  strange  laziness  has,  hitherto,  withheld 
me  from  telling  you,  how  much  I  was  gratified  by 
your  last  letter.  If  I  had  done  justice  to  my  own 
feelings,  I  should,  most  certainly,  not  have  delayed 
a  single  post.  But,  if  I  mistake  not,  your  letter 
found  me  in  bed.  At  any  rate,  I  was  seduced  into 
postponement  \  and,  when  I  once  postpone,  I  need 
only  add,  ‘  facilis  descensus  Averni.5 

Yet  it  has  not  been  wholly  laziness ;  it  has  rather 
been  the  embarrassment  of  rival  avocations.  I  had 
to  write  to  Major  W. ;  I  had  to  write  to  J.  D.  \  and 
it  so  happened,  that  neither  letter  was  to  be  confined 
within  one  or  two  sheets.  I  can  only  say,  that, 
whatever  produced  the  too  long  silence,  inattention 
to  you  had  no  share.  I  can  truly  say,  that  I  have 
not  often  in  my  life  been  more  gratified,  than  by  the 
letter,  which  I  have  appeared  to  overlook. 


318 


The  last  matter  which  has  occupied  my  attention, 
has  been  the  methodist  conference,  with  its  adjuncts. 
I  was  five  times  at  methodist  symposiums  ;  one  din¬ 
ner,  and  four  breakfasts.  They  and  I  put  it  up 
well  together.  If  all  was  as  well  throughout  the 
kingdom,  as  it  appeared  to  me,  there  would  be  little 
to  complain  of.  The  preachers,  certainly,  are  not 
losing  ground  in  their  adherence,  (I  wish  I  could 
say  attachment,)  to  the  establishment ;  and  Dr.  C. 
is  very  reasonable  and  proper.  When,  on  his  tour 
through  the  north,  he  was  on  a  Sunday  at  Armagh, 
his  wife’s  indisposition  prevailed  against  his  in¬ 
clination  to  go  to  church.  The  preachers  there, 
went,  and  brought  back  intelligence  to  him,  that  the 
Primate  had  preached,  and  administered  the  sacra¬ 
ment,  and  gave  a  good  account  of  the  sermon. 
Dr.  C.  immediately  began  to  regret,  that  any  con¬ 
sideration  had  prevented  his  going.  He  sat  down, 
and  wrote  an  apologetic  letter  to  the  Primate ; 
stating  the  cause  of  his  absence,  and  declaring  his 
attachment,  and  that  of  the  methodists,  to  the  esta¬ 
blishment.  The  measure  was  romantic  enough,  but 
it  took  the  Primate,  who  showed  the  letter  with 
satisfaction,  to  S.  O.,  and  he  told  the  story  to  Dr. 
W.,  and  Dr.  W.  to  me.  He  also  told  it  to  Arthur 
Keene  #,  and  he  to  Dr.  C.  ;  and  Dr.  C.  spoke  of  it 
to  me  with  much  pleasure. 

If  I  do  not  much  rely  on  the  zeal  of  the  metho¬ 
dists,  respecting  the  establishment,  I  certainly  have 
no  doubt  of  their  capability  of  being  attached  to  it. 
A  little  carefulness,  in  officiating,  and  preaching ;  a 
little  kindness,  and  blameless  moral  conduct,  would 


*  The  late  Arthur  Keene,  Esq.  of  Dublin  ;  a  personal  friend  of  Mr.  Wesley, 
and  well  known  for  his  attachment  to  the  established  church.  .  .  Ed. 


349 


soon  draw  their  affection  ;  and,  I  cannot  but  think, 
overcome  tendencies,  which,  here  and  there,  too 
plainly  show  themselves.  I  fear,  too,  they  must 
show  themselves,  while  matters  remain  as  they  are. 
The  methodist  temper  is  too  active,  to  be  neutral ; 
and  his  mind  too  narrow,  to  see  things  on  a  great 
scale.  He  must  be  drawn  to  the  establishment;  or 
he  must  be  reckoned  on,  as,  in  some  measure,  its 
enemy. 

I  must  mention,  particularly,  that  I  saw  and  talked 
much  to  G.  O.,  the  Irish  missionary ;  and  I  must 
say,  I  have  found  much  more  reasonable  ideas  in 
him,  than  I  expected.  He,  most  certainly,  chooses 
for  himself  a  very  original  kind  of  movement ; 
but,  still,  I  found  him  wonderfully  sensible  and  ju¬ 
dicious.  Drs.  W.  and  Graves,  met  here,  last  night, 
at  tea ;  the  former,  had  dined  with  me.  G.  O. 
came  by  my  appointment,  and  I  do  not  know,  that 
I  ever  saw  any  one  more  struck  than  Graves.  He 
considered  Mr.  O.’s  narrative,  altogether,  as  pecu¬ 
liarly  interesting ;  and  was  cordially  disposed  to 
wish  well  to  his  endeavours.  Dr.  C.  talked  with 
me,  yesterday,  on  the  steps  necessary  to  be  taken, 
in  order  to  make  the  Irish  missionary  system,  un¬ 
exceptionable.  I  never  expect  to  make  Dr.  C. 
think  as  I  do.  But  I  was  glad  to  observe,  that 
he  spoke  more  reasonably,  than  I  had  thought  pro¬ 
bable.  He  is  a  very  worthy  man ;  and,  I  believe, 
would  willingly  increase,  instead  of  diminishing,  the 
church  interest  amongst  the  methodists.  At  the 
same  time,  I  must  allow,  that  he  is  apt  to  be  run 
away  with,  by  his  own  prejudices  and  preconceptions. 

On  the  whole,  while  I  do  not  give  credit  to  the 
methodists,  for  all  the  professions  they  make,  I  do 
assuredly  think,  that  they  are  capable  of  being  bene- 


360 


ficially  managed ;  and  that  the  best  of  all  managers 
for  them,  would  be,  clergymen,  who  should  feel 
toward  them  as  you  do. 

So  far,  I  wrote  a  full  fortnight  ago ;  but  was  then 
unable  to  go  on,  as  I  intended.  I  then  got  into  a 
long  answer  to  a  letter  of  Mr.  Butterworth’s, #  out  of 
which,  I  have  not  emerged,  and  yet  with  which,  my 
head  has  been  occupied,  because  it  has  required 
labour  to  make  myself  intelligible,  to  a  plain,  though 
very  sensible  man.  And,  in  spite  of  myself,  almost 
daily,  my  thread  of  thought  has  been  either  broken, 
or  suspended,  by  one  interruption  or  another. 

Having  a  little  disburdened  my  mind,  about  not 
writing  to  you,  let  me  now  say,  that  I  do  not  feel 
wholly  at  ease,  that  you  have  let  me  be  silent  so  long. 
I  know  I  did  not  deserve  a  letter  from  you,  when  I 
did  not  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your  excellent 
and  pleasant  one.  But,  then,  you  do  not  go  by  that 
rule,  and  you  do  not  judge  of  me  by  appearances. 
In  fact,  I  am  uneasy,  lest  you  should  not  have  been 
well.  For,  if  you  were  rightly  well,  I  think  you 
would  have  some  matter  in  your  thoughts,  which  it 
would  be  a  pleasure  to  you  to  communicate.  My 
friend,  ease  me  of  this  doubt  as  soon  as  you  can. 

Do  you  often  see - ?  I  shall  be  glad  to  know 

what  you  think  of  him  ;  as  I  cannot  but  suspect, 
that,  with  all  possible  rectitude  of  heart,  he  has  not 
a  plain-sailing  mind.  In  family  matters,  there  are 
faults  on  both  sides.  Indeed  my  own  observation 

satisfies  me,  that  -  and  - ,  are  not  without 

their  oddities,  and,  perhaps,  are  liable  to  mistake 
those  oddities,  for  matters  of  conscience.  When 
this  is  the  case,  there  can  be  but  little  good  under- 


*  The  late  Joseph  Butterworth,  Esq.  M.  P. 


35 1 


standing,  even  between  the  nearest  natural  con¬ 
nections. 

Something, - lately  said,  leads  me  to  think, 

that  both  may  possibly  have  doubts,  even  about  me  ; 
that  is,  may  suspect  me  to  be  too  much  a  compro- 
mizer  with  the  world.  I  have  thought  a  little  about 
this ;  and,  on  the  whole,  I  do  not  think  it  wonderful. 
There  are  some  people,  whose  senses  must  be  im¬ 
pressed  with  a  thing,  before  they  can  conceive  it  to 
exist ;  and  who,  even  then,  measure  all  its  energies, 
by  the  sounds  which  it  emits,  or  the  appearances 
which  it  exhibits.  To  such  persons,  an  inward  separ¬ 
ation  from  the  world,  is  nearly  unintelligible ;  it  must 
be  palpable,  and  tangible,  or  they  cannot  take  cogni¬ 
zance  of  it.  The  positive  marks  of  piety,  too,  must 
be  ostensible  and  striking.  If  they  are  confined  to 
the  closet,  and  to  the  retired  walk,  they  are  held  pro¬ 
blematical.  It  will,  probably,  be  said,  4  how  can 
such  a  person  be  so  very  religious,  as  some  say  he  is, 
when  he  acts  and  speaks  so  much  like  other  people ; 
and  so  little  resists  the  customs,  and  practices  of  the 
world?’  It  is  not  censoriousness,  nor  want  of  cha¬ 
rity,  but  it  is  want  of  voug ;  it  is,  that,  in  the  combin¬ 
ation  of  animal  and  spirit,  or  of  body  and  mind,  the 
material  part,  got  a  kind  of  ascendancy,  which  dis¬ 
poses  to  a  grosser,  and  indisposes  for  a  more  abstract, 
mode  of  apprehending  things.  To  such,  persons  of  a 
decidedly  opposite  construction,  will  be  necessarily 
unintelligible.  I  feel,  I  am  so,  to  all  of  that  class ; 
and  I  might  be  sometimes  disheartened  by  it,  lest  it 
should  arise  from  some  worse  cause,  were  it  not,  that 
the  first  of  incarnate  Beings,  being  eminently  formed 
on  the  predominantly  intellectual  plan,  nay,  most 
probably,  standing  at  the  very  head  of  that  class,  has 
not  only  given  a  preference  to  the  unostensible  course, 


352 


in  his  conduct  and  maxims,  but  was  himself  censured, 
for  not  being  sufficiently  rigid  and  recluse. 

Certainly,  hitherto,  the  intellectual  are  the  very 
few  ;  and  the  sensitive  are  the  many.  The  conde¬ 
scending  goodness  of  God,  therefore,  has,  ever  since 
the  day  of  Pentecost,  but  especially  since  the  death 
of  the  apostles,  permitted  his  holy  religion,  variously 
to  embody  itself,  and  also  to  assume  various  secta¬ 
rian  forms.  The  visible  church,  has  obviously  owed 
its  magnitude,  to  the  former  means ;  and  the  invisible 
church,  could  not,  I  suppose,  have  been  kept  up, 
without  the  latter.  Yet,  followers  of  the  pure  spirit 
of  Christianity,  never  have  been  wanting ;  and  they 
who  are  such,  must  feel,  and  be  grateful  for,  their 
invaluable  advantage.  But  they  must  also,  patiently 
and  kindly,  bear  with  those,  who  belong  to  that  lower, 
and  yet  necessary  order.  For  my  own  part,  I  trust, 
I  feel  disposed  to  do  so ;  yet  I  think  it  right  to  do  all 
that  can  be  done,  to  diffuse  a  better,  and  higher 
spirit ;  though  still,  with  caution,  and  all  gentleness, 
to  those  who  cannot  understand  such  a  design.  I 
think  you  feel  completely  with  me,  in  all  these  matters ; 
and  I  assure  you  a  day  seldom  passes,  in  which  I  do 
not,  however  weakly,  yet  sincerely  and  earnestly, 
pray  to  God,  to  give  you  such  health  and  spirits,  as 
will  enable  you  to  act  effectually,  in  that  high  and 
happy  department,  to  which,  in  a  more  public  way 
than  myself,  it  has  pleased  divine  Providence  to  call 
you.  I  humbly  trust  we  do  not  err,  in  supposing 
that  way,  at  which  we  aim,  to  be,  in  a  more  peculiar 
manner,  the  way  marked  out  by  our  blessed  Lord 
himself,  while  sojourning  in  this  lower  world. 

S.,  I  fear,  grows  more  odd.  I  have  had  two  let¬ 
ters  from  him,  previously  to  his  leaving  town,  to 
go  to  the  north  of  Ireland.  In  the  first,  he  tells  me 


353 


his  thoughts  of  my  deluded  and  dangerous  condi¬ 
tion  ;  and  prays  earnestly,  that  I  may  awaken  out 
of  my  dream.  To  this,  I  wrote  a  short  and  kind 
answer ;  just  saying  a  few  words  to  undeceive  him, 
as  to  the  idea  of  my  thinking  myself  clear  from  trans¬ 
gression  :  the  second  letter,  was  in  reply  to  this  ; 
very  kind  and  tender,  but  written  in  the  very  spirit 
of  a  religionized  Werter.  I  am  too  certain,  that  he 
will  take  some  extraordinary  step  ;  there  being  an 
obvious  progress,  from  one  degree  of  peculiarity  to 
another.  In  his  last  letter,  he  positively  tells  me, 
that  he  cannot  have  any  more  intercourse  with  me 
on  earth  ;  but  earnestly  prays,  that  he  may  meet  me 
hereafter,  in  the  bands  of  an  eternal  friendship  ;  and 
that  he  may  see  me,  among  the  flock  whom  the  Lamb 
shall  lead  to  fountains  of  living  water;  adding,  ‘  if, 
by  any  means,  I  may  arrive  at  these  mansions  of 
peace,  such  a  sight,  will,  I  am  sure,  add  to  the  bliss 
of  heaven/ 

I  am  not  ready  to  weep  ;  but  his  letter,  so  odd, 
so  melancholy,  and  yet  so  gentle  and  kind,  filled  my 
eyes.  Forgive  me,  my  dear  friend,  for  my  long 
omission,  and  believe  me,  most  faithfully  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


vol.  i. 


A  A 


354 


LETTER  LVIL 

To  A .  K?iox,  Esq . 


Cashel,  Aug.  2.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Why  should  you  think  of  apologizing  to  me  for  si¬ 
lence  ?  Assuredly,  a  suspicion  never  presented  itself, 
for  a  single  moment,  that  you  were  neglectful,  or 
unkind ;  and  a  day  has  seldom  passed,  without  self- 
accusation  on  my  own  part.  I  was,  indeed,  very 
desirous  to  write,  from  an  apprehension,  especially, 
that  all  was  not  well  with  you.  Three  or  four  letters 
I  did  actually  begin,  but  I  could  not  get  on  beyond 
two  or  three  pages,  which  did  not  please  me  :  the 
fact  is,  I  have  not  been  well ;  but  there  has  been  no¬ 
thing  particularly  alarming  in  my  ailments ;  nothing 
more  than,  perhaps,  naturally  and  necessarily  arose 
from  the  state  of  the  air,  which  has  certainly  been 
very  trying.  Your  most  acceptable  letter  relieved 
me  from  no  little  uneasiness  about  you.  I  feared  you 
were  suffering  more  than  appears  to  be  the  case ;  and, 
considering  all  things,  I  am  happy  that  you  are  able 
to  give  so  tolerable  an  account  of  yourself. 

Your  time  has  been  fully  employed.  What  you  say 
about  the  methodists,  gives  me  peculiar  satisfaction. 
Should  it  ever  fall  in  my  way  to  come  in  contact  with 
any  of  their  preachers,  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  wanting 
in  effort,  wisely  to  conciliate  ;  you  and  I,  are,  I  be¬ 
lieve,  fully  agreed,  that,  unless  the  management  be 
judicious,  such  efforts  will  do  more  harm  than  good. 
How  much  do  I  wish  that  my  clerical  brethren  were 


355 


more  disposed,  to  conciliate  without  effort ;  that  is, 
without  any  direct  intention  of  conciliating,  by  living 
up  to  the  sacred  character  they  have  taken  upon 
themselves  :  of  this,  I  am  well  convinced,  there  is 
more,  than  there  was  some  years  ago  ;  still,  however, 
there  is  much,  very  much  wanting,  as  far  as  my  ob¬ 
servation  goes.  Good  intention  is  gaining  ground, 
more  than  positive  qualifications  ;  we  are,  for  the  most 
part,  a  deplorably  ignorant  body ;  and,  till  our  uni¬ 
versity  improves  very  strikingly,  how  can  matters  well 
be  otherwise? 

Indisposition  has  sadly  interfered  with  my  writing 
sermons :  I  need  not  tell  you,  that  this  was  a  serious 
disappointment ;  but  I  am  thankful  that  I  was  en¬ 
abled  to  succumb  with  cheerfulness  :  though  con¬ 
tinuous  and  consecutive  writing  was  out  of  my 
power,  (and  on  this  point  I  was  not  uneasy,  as  I  had 
Whitty  to  preach,)  I  was  enabled,  with  a  good  deal 
of  comfort,  to  disport  myself  among  the  books,  and 
have  made  a  pretty  large  body  of  references  and  ex¬ 
tracts,  on  the  subject  of  the  Liturgy.  Matter  has 
grown  on  me  from  books  ;  and  some  new  light  has 
arisen  on  my  own  mind  ;  so  that  I  am  in  hopes  I 
might  be  able,  perhaps  at  no  very  distant  period,  so 
to  alter,  arrange,  and  revise,  the  five  sermons  I  have 
already  made,  with  the  addition  of  a  sixth,  and  a  col¬ 
lection  of  notes,  as  to  produce  a  volume  that  may  do 
some  service.  On  this  point,  however,  I  do  not  wish 
to  be  sanguine,  as  I  know  there  is  true  practical  wis¬ 
dom  in  the  old  proverb,  f  Festina  lentef  Laurence 
has,  to  my  conviction,  satisfactorily  proved,  that  our 
church  is  rather  lutheran,  than  calvinistic ;  but  I 
should  be  glad,  if  I  undertook  such  a  work  as  I  have 
been  speaking  of,  to  prove,  that  we  are  melanc- 
thonian,  rather  than  lutheran.  You  are  well  ac- 

A  a  2 


quainted,  doubtless,  with  all  that  Mosheim  says,  on 
the  schisms  in  the  lutheran  church.  I  have  looked 
into  other  books  on  the  point,  and  cannot  help  think¬ 
ing,  that  our  church  comes  nearer  the  party,  that 
formed  themselves  on  Melancthon’s  system,  or  rather 
nearer  to  Melancthon  himself,  than  to  the  writings 
of  any  modern,  out  of  its  own  pale.  I  have  turned 
a  good  deal  over  Melancthon  himself;  and  found, 
that  you  had  been  there  before  me  :  indeed,  I  recol¬ 
lected  that  you  had  ;  but  your  marks  pointed  out 
your  footsteps.  I  have  made  extracts,  not  only  from 
the  passages  you  were  reading,  but  from  others, 
where  there  is  a  wonderful  parallelism,  with  some  of 
the  least  dogmatic  views  of  our  church  ;  and  an  espe¬ 
cial  harmony  with  that  little  body  of  Articles,  drawn 
up  under  Henry  VIII.  in  1541.  Laurence,  you  may 
recollect,  quotes  it ;  but  he  does  not,  by  any  means, 
quote  the  most  striking  and  important  passages  of  it. 
Neither  do  I  recollect  to  have  seen,  either  it,  or  them, 
adverted  to,  by  any  other  writer.  I  have  found  some 
very  striking  and  noble  testimonies,  in  favour  of  our 
liturgy,  by  foreign  protestants  ;  especially  by  Grotius, 
Isaac  Casaubon,  and,  above  all,  by  the  famous  Dre- 
lincourt ;  who  actually  predicts,  that  the  Church-of- 
England  service,  will  one  day  become,  a  light  to 
lighten  the  rest  of  the  Reformation.  It  is  a  circum¬ 
stance  perhaps  worthy  of  observation,  that  the  church 
of  Neufchatel,  has  actually  taken,  almost  literally, 
some  of  our  most  spiritual  collects,  and  embodied 
them  in  her  occasional  offices.  What  proves  that  she 
took  from  us,  and  not  from  a  common  source,  the 
missals  for  instance,  is,  that  some  of  the  collects  she 
has  chosen,  are  from  among  those  added  in  the  re¬ 
view  of  1662.  The  edition  of  the  Neufchatel  liturgy, 
which  I  possess,  is  the  second,  anno  1737.  This  fact 


is  not  adverted  to,  by  any  liturgical  writer  I  have 
hitherto  been  able  to  consult.  The  American,  and 
Scotch  episcopalians,  it  is  generally  known,  have 
adopted  our  liturgy.  The  present  state  of  the  lu- 
theran  and  calvinistic  churches,  I  am  very  desirous 
to  know  something  of.  Though  Mosheim  thinks 
otherwise,  I  conceive  it  may  be  proved,  that  the 
Greek  church  has  a  far  greater  leaning  to  us,  than  to 
any  other  :  her  deep  antipathy  to  the  church  of  Rome 
is  very  remarkable  :  but  it  is,  perhaps,  not  less  re¬ 
markable,  that,  wdiile  that  church  fruitlessly  tried 
every  thing,  that  chicane  and  bribery  could  do,  to 
gain  her  to  their  side,  there  came  unbought  and  vo¬ 
luntary  testimonies,  from  very  respectable  quarters  in 
the  Greek  church,  to  the  merit  of  our  Anglican  system, 
both  of  worship  and  doctrine.  These  matters  are 
chiefly  of  a  preliminary  nature  ;  but  I  have,  here  and 
there,  gleaned  a  good  deal,  that  perhaps  may  tend  to 
illustrate  the  practical,  and  spiritual  views  of  our 
liturgy  itself;  and  I  think  I  know  where  to  look,  for 
more  of  the  same  nature.  In  the  ancient  Greek 
liturgy,  there  is  some  matter :  but  I  am  rather  at  a 
loss  for  the  greek  collection  of  Renaudot,  and  the 
gallican  collection  of  Mabillon  :  if  you  could  find  any 
one  that  would  accommodate  me  with  the  loan  of 
these  books,  I  should  esteem  it  a  particular  favour, 
and  would  take  the  utmost  care  of  them.  Jewel  and 
Hooker  give  their  share  of  materials  ;  and  I  have  hit 
upon  some  very  beautiful  parallelisms  with  our  ser¬ 
vice,  in  our  favourite,  Bernard.  Within  the  last  two 
days,  and,  indeed,  this  morning,  I  composed  my  fifth 
sermon  on  the  communion  service  :  there  are  faults 
in  the  composition  ;  it  is  not  so  well  arranged,  so  con¬ 
secutive,  or  so  philosophic,  as  I  could  wish.  Still, 
however,  there  are  some  things,  which,  I  believe,  you 

a  a  3 


358 


will  not  dislike.  My  object  was,  to  state  strongly, 
but  guardedly,  the  doctrine  of  perfection,  from  the 
text,  Heb.  vi.  1.  I  know  not  how  it  has  taken  ;  but 
as  I  should  like  to  have  your  opinion,  I  will  try,  if 
possible,  this  next  week,  to  transcribe  it  for  you.  An 
idea  has  occurred  to  me,  that  an  interesting  conclu¬ 
sion  to  the  course,  might  be  written  on  the  text,  ‘  By 
their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them/  The  discourse  to 
be  biographic,  illustrating  the  practical  tendency  of 
Church-of-England  theology,  or  of  theology  of  a 
kindred  spirit.  For  this  purpose,  I  would  take  two 
Church-of-England  men,  George  Herbert,  suppose, 
and  Bishop  Ken  ;  two  foreign  divines,  of  congenial 
sentiments  ;  and  two  dissenters,  who  have  most  har¬ 
monized  with  our  establishment,  suppose,  Baxter 
and  Doddridge.  It  would  require  some  dexterity  in 
the  handling  ;  but  might  not  this  plan  enable  me 
to  throw  out  a  little  useful  comparative  theology,  in 
the  notes  to  this  last  sermon  ?  I  have  been  thus 
diffuse,  and  I  fear  tedious,  not  so  much  from  think¬ 
ing  that  these  things  are,  in  themselves,  interesting, 
as  to  show  you,  that,  in  spite  of  ailment,  I  have  not 
been  quite  idle.  One  result  of  my  late  studies  has 
been,  a  tendency  to  believe,  that  truly  good  men, 
that  is,  that  men  who  have  had  no  secret  warp  to¬ 
wards  self-indulgence,  nor  any  headstrong  qualities  in 
their  nature,  are  more  substantially  agreed,  than  we 
would  at  first  suppose,  on  the  subject  of  perfection. 
Some  talk  of  sin,  when  others  speak  of  infirmity ; 
but,  surely,  there  is  very  little  difference  between  the 
doctrine,  as  laid  down  in  John  Wesley’s  sermon,  and 
as  it  is  implicitly  conveyed,  in  those  passages  of  Me- 
lancthon,  where  he  states  the  distinction  of  mortal 
and  venial  sin.  I  conceive  the  judicious  way  of  pro¬ 
cedure,  in  giving  any  thing  to  the  world  on  this 


359 


tender  topic,  would  be,  to  tight  behind  the  shield  of 
great  authorities  ;  authorities,  as  remote  from  the 
suspicion  of  fanaticism,  as  might  be :  if  my  sermon 
were  to  be  printed,  I  would  fortify  it  with  notes  from 
Saint  Augustin,  (and  I  do  know  a  passage  or  two 
strongly  in  our  favour,)  from  Melancthon,  from 
Hooker,  &c.  Here,  the  Magdeburgh  centuriators, 
as  well  as  Du  Pin,  might  aid.  By  the  way,  now  we 
are  talking  of  perfection,  have  you  not  Poiret’s  Di¬ 
vine  CEconomy  ?  It  is  a  strange  book ;  but  it  has 
some  invaluable  passages  on  this  subject.  The  9th 
chap,  of  the  6th  vol.  abounds  in  excellent  matter. 
He  especially  expounds  the  7th  chap,  to  the  Romans, 
verbatim  et  literatim,  as  you  do  :  such  an  exposi¬ 
tion  of  it,  I  never  saw  in  any  other  book :  but  I  had 
actually  retailed  it  to  many,  before  I  read  it  there ; 
having  previously  laid  it  in,  by  wholesale,  from  you  : 
of  course,  Poiret  could  not  be  quoted  with  prudence. 

I  have  only  seen - -  once :  but  am,  please  God, 

to  meet  him  to-morrow  at - ’s.  I  do  trust  your 

surmises  are  not,  to  any  extent,  well  founded.  He 
appeared  to  me  very  wise,  sound,  and  rational.  He 
asked  my  advice  how  he  should  act,  with  respect  to 
the  advances  of  civility  he  had  met  in  the  neighbour¬ 
hood.  I  recommended  that  he  should  meet  them 
cordially,  and  accept  of  them  moderately.  With  this 
idea,  he  told  me  his  own  views  entirely  accorded ; 
and  he  fully  coincided  in  opinion,  that  singularity 
was  to  be  avoided ;  that,  when  we  must  differ  so 
much  from  the  world,  in  so  many  essential  matters, 
there  should  be  as  few  merely  circumstantial  differ¬ 
ences  as  possible.  I  shall  be  better  able  to  judge, 
after  the  interview  that  is  just  at  hand  ;  but  I  own,  I 
strongly  believe,  that  you  stand  as  high  as  ever  in 
his  estimation.  I  know  his  views  about  the  world, 

A  A  4t 


360 


were  once  extremely  rigid  and  harsh  ;  but  they  have 
unquestionably  improved.  He  is,  on  the  whole,  a 
deeply  pious  person  ;  one  of  those,  that  seem  to  me 
to  come  nearest,  in  his  present  sentiments  and  feelings, 
to  the  class  whose  piety  is  of  the  intellectual  kind. 
What  you  said,  in  your  last,  about  Priestley,  now 
reverts  to  my  mind  :  there  is  a  very  curious  coinci¬ 
dence,  between  your  remarks  on  the  influence  of  his 
early  religious  feelings,  and  some  observations  of 
the  Edinburgh  reviewers,  in  the  17th  No.,  which  I 
intended  to  extract  for  you,  but  find  I  have  lent  the 
book.  They  are  sarcastic  upon  Priestley’s  piety ; 
and  attribute  it  to  early  puritanism,  which  adhered  to 
him,  in  spite  of  philosophy. 

What  you  say  of  S -  grieves  me,  but  it  does 

not  surprize.  Poor  fellow  !  there  is  assuredly  hap¬ 
piness  in  store  for  him  ;  but  I  fear  he  is  not  to  enjoy 
any  of  it  in  this  life.  Pie  has  a  mind,  that  must  worry 
itself  \  and  the  most  amiable  qualities  that  he  possesses, 
are  often,  to  him,  sources  of  disgust,  and,  perhaps, 
of  deep  suffering.  I  am  fully  prepared  to  hear  of 
some  very  extraordinary  measure.  It  is,  however,  a 
comfort  to  consider,  that,  though  his  intellect  is  very 
odd,  his  heart  is  truly  sincere  and  pious.  Have  you 

heard  lately  from - ?  Since  we  all  met  at  B - , 

I  have  heard  nothing  of  or  from  him.  His  intel¬ 
lectual,  and  internal  movements,  are  to  me  a  matter 
of  no  common  interest,  independent  of  the  real  re¬ 
gard  I  have  for  him.  I  look,  with  deep  concern,  to 
the  effect  he  is  calculated  to  produce,  on  a  great  part 
of  the  public  mind.  If  his  views  continue  as  they 
were  (which,  indeed,  I  think  hardly  possible),  he  can 
do  little  service  to  the  world ;  if  they  grow  decidedly 
worse,  he  may  do  much  mischief:  at  the  same  time, 
if  it  is  the  intention  of  Divine  Providence,  that  we  are 


361 


to  do  any  service,  however  small,  in  our  generation, 
it  may  be  well  that  we  should  be  kept  on  the  alert  by 
opposition. 

The  good  people  that  I  meet  here,  are  rather 
sensitive,  than  intellectual ;  and  considering  that,  I 

get  on  wonderfully  well  with  them.  -  is  one  of 

that  class  :  but  we  agree  very  well  indeed.  I  have 
not  been  able  yet  to  go  over  and  see  his  namesake. 
He  is  ten  miles  distant,  but  he  came  in  to  see  me  one 
day  ;  luckily  F.  and  his  wife  came  into  Cashel  the 
same  day,  and  dined  with  me  ;  therefore  I  kept  our 
young  friend  to  dinner,  and  introduced  him  to  their 
acquaintance.  I  think  him  a  very  promising  young 
man  :  he  is  grave  beyond  his  years ;  but  does  not 
want  either  animation,  or  good  sense  :  and  his  piety, 
I  am  sure,  is  cteep.  I  take  it  that  the  trials  which  he 
has  passed  through,  with  respect  to  doctrinal  entangle^ 
ments,  have  been  very  serviceable  to  him  ;  they  pre¬ 
disposed  him  to  drink  in  with  delight,  the  views  that 
you  presented  to  him.  If  he  has  the  power  of  giving 
out,  what  he  knows,  and  feels,  he  may  be  a  signally 
useful  clergyman.  As  to  personal  comfort  and  ac¬ 
commodation,  I  hope  he  will  do  well.  He  has  got 
under  one  of  the  kindest,  and  most  amiable  gentle¬ 
men,  I  ever  knew  ;  one  of  the  very  best  of  the  old 
school.  I  hope  to  ride  out  about  the  middle  of  the 
week,  and  see  how  he  is  accommodated. 

I  wish  you  could  procure  me  information,  about 
the  present  state  of  the  lutheran,  and  calvinistic 
churches.  What  liturgies  they  use,  what  is  the  state 
of  religion,  &c.  &c.  Any  thing  about  the  state  of 
the  Greek  church,  too,  would  be  of  use.  I  feel  a 
great  want  of  Melchior  Adam’s  lives  of  the  German 
divines ;  if  you  could  either  get  this  from  Vallance, 
or  borrow  it  for  me,  it  would  do  me  no  small  service. 


362 


I  regret  you  do  not  go  to  England,  for  it  would 
have  been  good  for  you.  May  there  be  any  chance 
of  our  going  together  next  year  ?  I  am  very  strongly 
recommended  to  drink  the  Ballispelian  water  for  a 
fortnight;  and  do  not  know  but  I  shall  follow  Evans’* 
advice.  I  am  about  changing  my  lodgings,  for  a 
more  private  house  ;  in  which  I  am  to  have  two  very 
good  sitting  rooms,  one  of  which  I  mean  to  tit  up  as 
a  study. 

Yours  most  affectionately, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  LVIII. 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq. 


Cashel,  August  4.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  have  had,  this  day,  much  and  satisfactory  con¬ 
versation  with - .  He  entirely  coincides  with  us 

in  opinion,  that  a  man’s  principal  business  is  within 
his  own  heart  and  conscience ;  and  the  happiest,  as 
well  as  highest  department,  is  the  intellectual,  as 
contra-distinguished  from  the  sensitive.  He  sees, 
that,  whilst  external  props  may  be  highly  serviceable 
to  minds  of  a  weaker  texture,  that  mind,  which  is 
divinely  enabled  to  support  itself,  is  in  a  far  safer,  as 
well  as  more  progressive  state.  I  suggested,  and  he 
cordially  coincided  with  the  remark,  that  the  person 
who  lays  his  great  stress,  upon  overt-acts  of  an  osten- 

*  The  late  Dr.  Thomas  Evans,  an  eminent  physician  settled  at  Cashel,  and  an 

attached  friend  of  Bishop  Jebb,  who  had  contributed  much  to  fix  his  religious 
opinions.  .  .  Ed. 


363 


sible  and  palpable  nature,  will  probably,  in  proportion 
to  his  sincerity,  fall  into  enthusiastic  excess  ;  since 
to  remain  stationary,  is  impossible ;  and,  if  there  be 
progress,  it  must  consist  in  a  multiplication  of  acts, 
which  will  widen  the  separation  between  such  a  per¬ 
son  and  the  world.  While  the  progress  of  a  person, 
whose  tastes  are  more  spiritual  and  philosophic,  being 
of  an  interior  nature,  will  be  evidenced  to  the  world, 
only  in  improved  tempers  ;  yea,  and  I  may  add,  in 
sound  practical  wisdom.  On  referring  to  some  old 

discussions  of  ours  about  the  world, - -  said,  that 

he  had  been  quite  wrong ;  that  he  had  been  rigid  to 
an  extreme,  and  that  to  express  the  revolution  his 
sentiments  had  undergone,  in  a  few  words,  4  he 
then  thought  it  was  the  devil’s  world,  but  now,  that 
it  is  God’s  world.’  He  mentioned,  that  he  has, 
of  late,  formed  an  opinion,  that  ratiocination,  is  by 
no  means  the  highest  act  of  the  mind,  or  the  most 
effectual  way  of  coming  at  the  best  knowledge. 
This,  I  replied,  was  also  a  favourite  idea  of  mine  : 
for  I  conceived,  that  middle  terms,  and  the  whole 
apparatus  of  logical  induction,  were  but  accommo¬ 
dations  to  defective  mental  powers ;  and  substitutes 
for  a  more  compendious  way  of  coming  at  truth,  viz. 
intuition.  This,  I  thought,  was  a  higher  faculty  than 
reasoning :  the  ourr^rj(rig  of  the  apostle,  Phil.  i.  9-,  or 
that  spiritual  discernment,  spoken  of,  1  Cor.  ii.  14. 
A  further  idea  occurred  to  me,  which  I  know  not 

whether  it  be  not  fanciful.  - made  some  allusion 

to  our  now  seeing  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then 
face  to  face.  Now,  we  are  told,  that  ‘  knowledge 
shall  pass  away’,  and  the  sight  which  is  now,  appears 
to  be  the  same  in  kind,  though  very  inferior  in  de¬ 
gree,  to  the  sight  hereafter.  May  not  then  this  sight 
be  the  Trvzu^ctTixri  anr$7jcn£,  that  spiritual  perception. 


364 


which  is  superior  to  mere  yvwo-ig,  ratiocinative  know¬ 
ledge  ?  This  notion  seems  to  derive  some  counte- 

O 

nance  from  1  Cor.  xiii.  11.  tog  vr)7riog  to 

which  may  be  opposed,  in  the  next  verse, 
yoio  afi,  we  now  see  :  this  is  something  of  a  higher 
nature  than  mere  knowledge  :  but  it  is  only  through 
a  glass  darkly ;  that  is,  we  have  now  the  faculty  of 
spiritual  discernment,  but  it  is  impeded  by  the  nebu¬ 
lous  atmosphere,  with  which  we  are  surrounded  :  we 
are  in  a  body,  we  are  more  or  less  involved  in  sensible 
things,  which  do  not  give  free  scope  to  the  visual 
faculty  of  our  souls  :  but,  hereafter,  we  shall  see  face 
to  face,  in  that  pure  and  perfect  medium,  which  is 
best  adapted  to  our  organs  'of  spiritual  discernment. 
And  the  whole  may  be  thus  illustrated.  .  .  An  expert 
diver  can  see  under  water,  but  it  must  be  cloudily, 
on  account  of  the  grossness  of  the  medium  ;  whereas, 
when  he  rises  from  the  water,  he  can  see  perfectly, 
his  eyes  being  free  to  act,  in  their  proper  medium, 
the  air.  Just  so,  when  the  soul  emerges  from  the 
opacities  of  this  mortal  life,  it  will  have  a  clear,  dis¬ 
tinct,  and  luminous  view,  of  what  it  now  incompletely 
discerns.  But  as,  in  the  one  case,  the  sub-marine 
vision  of  the  diver,  is  far  preferable,  to  the  ratiocin¬ 
ation  of  the  blind  man,  who  conceived  scarlet  to  be 
like  the  sound  of  the  trumpet ;  so  the  7rusv[xocrix7} 
oucrQrjO'ig,  of  the  spiritual  man,  however  affected  by 
the  refractory  medium  of  mortality,  is  infinitely  above 
the  sublimest  efforts  of  the  more  discursive  faculty. 
I  did  not,  I  believe,  so  much  evolve  this  train  of 
thought  this  morning,  as  I  have  done  now ;  but 
perhaps,  after  all,  it  is  only  a  conceit ;  it  has,  how¬ 
ever  amused  me,  and,  if  it  can,  in  any  degree,  have 
the  same  effect  with  you,  I  shall  be  more  than  satis- 


865 


fied.  But  it  is  now  approaching  midnight,  and  pru¬ 
dence  warns  me  to  bed. 


P.  S.  If  I  rightly  understood  the  Archbishop,  it 
appeared  to  be  his  wish,  that  I  should  consult  the 
state  of  my  health,  and  ability  for  exertion,  with 
regard  to  preaching,  now  that  there  is  a  curate, 
whom  we  need  not  be  afraid  to  trust  in  the  pulpit. 
It  is  on  the  supposition  of  having  been  permitted 
this  latitude,  that  I  have  acted,  since  my  friend 
Whitty’s  establishment  here ;  and  I  must  say,  that 
I  have  found  very  pleasant,  and  happy  effects,  from 
so  doing.  My  ostensible  labours  have,  in  conse¬ 
quence,  been  less ;  but  I  question  whether,  in  any 
other  equal  period  of  time,  I  have  gained  so  much 
intellectual  ground,  as  since  I  left  Dublin  last.  I 
have,  I  conceive,  made  one  important  discovery,  that 
almost  in  my  worst  times  as  to  health,  I  can  actually 
employ  myself,  by  not  endeavouring  to  force  myself 
to  an  exertion  that  I  am  unfit  for ;  but  quietly  fol¬ 
lowing  such  a  clue  of  study,  as  circumstances  and 
inclination  furnish  me  with.  I  have  had  leisure  to 
make  observation,  on  what  I  may  call,  the  interior 
phenomena  of  my  mind ;  and  find  that,  when  too 
unwell  to  attempt  composition,  I  can,  both  pleasantly 
and  usefully,  employ  myself,  in  searching  various 
authors  for  information  on  some  subject,  that  I  pro¬ 
pose,  when  well,  to  work  upon.  After  these  occa¬ 
sional  abstinences  from  writing,  I  find  that  I  return 
with  a  renewed  appetite  for  composition ;  that  both 
connected  thought,  and  regular  arrangement,  present 
themselves  to  me,  without  elaborate  effort ;  and  that, 
often,  words  come  faster,  than  I  can  well  put  them 
on  paper.  I  know  not  whether  I  deceive  myself,  but 


366 


I  cannot  help  fancying,  that  the  sermon  which  I  have 
begun  to  copy  out  for  you,  and  which  I  hope  will 
accompany  this,  approaches  nearer,  than  perhaps  any 
thing  else  I  have  written,  to  an  easy  unpremeditated 
fluency,  of  thought,  and  of  expression.  I  have, 
indeed,  some  reason  to  imagine,  that  one  or  two  ill- 
natured  people  have  thrown  out  an  insinuation,  that 
my  absence  coincides  with  the  Archbishop’s  ;  and 
that,  when  he  is  away,  I  exert  myself  less  than 
during  his  presence.  Against  such  misrepresent¬ 
ations,  I  should  wish,  as  far  as  I  wisely  can,  to  guard 
myself;  but  I  own,  that,  as  I  am  conscious  to  my¬ 
self  of  nothing,  I  am  not  made  at  all  uneasy.  In 
this  world,  it  is  perhaps  impossible,  that,  when  any 
man  sets  himself,  however  weakly,  yet  sincerely,  to 
do  good,  he  shall  not  be  liable  to  have  his  good  evil 
spoken  of.  I  hope  I  say  it  with  deep  humility,  but 
I  cannot  help  reflecting,  that  the  pattern  of  all  perfec¬ 
tion,  did  not  escape  misrepresentation  and  reproach  ; 
and  the  reflection  to  me  is  full  of  comfort.  There¬ 
fore,  in  the  present  case,  if  I  were  assured  that  I 
have  the  Archbishop’s  kind  permission  to  act  accord¬ 
ing  to  circumstances,  I  should  not  scruple  to  pursue 
the  course,  which  I  find  most  conducive  to  my  bodily 
and  mental  health  ;  and  I  do  feel  a  strong  hope,  that 
the  result  would,  in  due  time,  be  found  to  make 
amends  for  the  subtraction  of  present  ostensible 
effort.  I  say  ostensible,  because  that,  consistently 
with  my  own  tastes  and  habits,  idleness  cannot  form 
a  part  of  my  system.  ‘  Semper  te  Diabolus  inveniat 
occupatum,’  said  Jerome  to  Nepotian.  For,  might 
there  not  be  a  prospect,  that  if  my  nerves  were,  by 
due  attention,  to  recover  their  tone ;  and  if)  in  the 
interim,  by  reading  and  thinking,  and  by  still  deeper 
and  more  interior  exercises,  I  were  enabled  to  lay  in 


367 


a  fund  of  materials,  I  should  then  be  enabled  to  write 
off  a  sermon,  almost  as  easily  and  rapidly,  as  I  write 
this  letter.  I  throw  out  these  matters,  for  your  cool 
consideration,  and  candid  opinion.  One  thing,  in¬ 
deed,  I  had  forgotten  to  mention,  that  the  Arch¬ 
bishop’s  wise  and  good  plan  of  appointing  a  lecturer, 
would  still  more  leave  me  at  liberty,  to  do  no  more 
than  I  can  do  comfortably.  By  the  way,  you  would 
do  :an  essential  service,  if  you  could  recommend  a 
clergyman,  well  qualified  for  the  lectureship  ;  very 
brilliant  talents,  I  do  not  conceive  would  be  neces¬ 
sary  ;  but  a  competent  power  of  popular  address, 
with  views,  at  least,  not  abhorrent  from  ours,  would 
be  highly  desirable,  if  not  absolutely  indispensable. 

I  shall  endeavour,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  finish 
the  transcription  of  my  sermon  ;  and  if  any  thing 
occurs  in  the  mean  time,  I  can  easily  add  another 
half  sheet  to  this  epistle  ;  which,  perhaps,  is  already 
too  long. 

Believe  me,  yours  most  truly, 

John  Jebb. 

P.  S.  On  reviewing  this,  I  only  feel,  that  I  have 
not  done  proper  justice  to  W - ’s  part  in  the  con¬ 

versation.  He  was  original,  ingenious,  deeply  pious, 
and  I  think,  truly  philosophic. 


368 


LETTER  49. 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehh. 


Dawson  Street,  Monday  afternoon,  Aug.  17.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Let  me  say  ever  so  little,  I  will,  please  God,  write 
to  you  by  this  evening’s  mail.  I  have  wished  to 
write  sooner  ;  but  my  time  and  mind  are  not  at  my 
command.  My  long  letter  to  Mr.  Butterworth  is 
yet  unfinished,  having  been  interrupted  by  sickness, 
and  other  avocations.  My  head  is  full  of  it ;  but  I 
obey  my  heart,  in  turning  from  it,  to  say  a  few  words 

to  you. 

I  sincerely  and  gratefully  thank  you,  for  tran¬ 
scribing  your  sermon  for  me.  I  agree  with  you  as 
to  the  fluency  of  idea  and  expression;  and  I  felt 
cordial  pleasure  in  your  expansion  of  the  first  collect, 
and  your  remarks  on  the  response  to  the  command¬ 
ments.  I  also  wholly  agreed  in  your  explanation  of 
perfection  ;  yet,  I  am  not  sure,  that  1  would  so  di¬ 
rectly  have  brought  this  last  topic  forward.  Such 
is  my  prudence  about  my  favourite  sentiment.  ‘  We 
speak  wisdom  among  them  that  are  perfect’ ;  and 
<  no  man  putteth  new  wine  into  old  bottles.’  But  I 
liked  it  notwithstanding.  I  read  it,  and  what  else 
was  new  to  me,  even  with  a  degree  of  emotion  ;  but 
to  account  for  this,  I  read  it  out.  As  to  parts  not 
quite  new  to  me,  I  would  say,  that  I  should  rather 
have  liked  the  last  paragraph,  (I  have  it  not  before 
me,  so  that  I  am  in  danger  of  talking  at  random,  .  . 
I  mean,  what  you  say  of  the  threefold  benefit)  not  to 


have  been  where  it  is,  but  In  a  place  suitable  to  its 
place  in  the  service. 

I  now  proceed  to  thank  you,  which  I  do  heartily, 
for  your  letters.  All  you  say  in  the  former,  and  in 

that  received  to-day,  of -  is  most  gratifying  to 

me.  I  showed  that  received  to-day,  indeed  both, 
to  the  Archbishop.  He  was  in  town  this  forenoon, 
and  he  could  not  be  more  gratified.  He  enters  into 
the  probable  improvement  produced  by  your  con¬ 
versation,  as  in  part  his  own  work  ;  and  feels  an 
honest  interest,  and  a  no  less  honest  gratification. 
As  to  you,  Jehonadab,  the  son  of  Rechab,  who 
was  a  right  honest  man  in  his  day,  could  not  have 
answered  Jehu’s  famous  question  with  less  embarrass¬ 
ment,  than  his  Grace  of  Cashel  could  answer  to  any 
question,  that  concerned  your  happiness. 

Your  remarks  about  ai<rQr)(ris,  I  quite  agree  in, 
and  approve.  You  have  observed  how  a  common 
mirror,  so  throws  the  solar  light  on  you,  as  to  warm 
you  ;  nay,  how  a  concave  mirror,  so  throws  it  on 
an  object,  as  to  produce  ignition.  Our  feeling  of 
warmth,  in  this  indirect  way,  experience  and  com¬ 
parison  tell  us  to  be  the  same  in  substance,  as  to  us, 
with  what  arises  from  our  direct  perception  of  the 
sun.  Similarly,  the  J$X£7ro[xsv  apri  &*’  £vo7TTpou  ev 
aiviy[xoLTi,  of  St.  Paul,  implies,  substantially,  the  ejus- 
dem  generis  feeling,  with  what  will  be  hereafter. 

You  will  observe,  I  am  not  at  all  sanguine,  about 
any  improvement  in  the  methodists.  All  I  mean, 
is,  they  are  certainly  not  more,  perhaps  less  dis¬ 
posed,  to  fall  out  with  us ;  and  I  would  treat  them 
accordingly.  As  to  caressing  them,  or  moving  one 
step  to  meet  them,  or  any  of  them,  I  should  fear 
the  consequences.  Any  of  them,  may  be  too  strong ; 
but  who  could  know,  whom  he  was  moving  toward  ? 

VOL.  I.  B  B 


370 


I  am,  at  present,  a  good  deal  amused,  in  reading 
a  work,  which  I  recommend  to  you  to  get:  Mrs. 
Hutchinson’s  life  of  her  husband.*  The  publication 
of  that  book,  appears  to  me  one  of  the  signs  of  the 
times.  It  lets  one  into  the  arcana  of  sectarianism ; 
and  sets  one  down  amidst  scenes,  than  which,  few 
in  history,  are,  or  can  be,  more  interesting,  in  a 
moral  and  philosophical  view.  When  Mrs.  H.  is 
assigning  reasons,  why  her  husband  did  not  wish 
an  extension  of  his  power,  she  says,  ‘  thirdly,  the 
religiousest,  and  best  people  were  so  pragmaticall, 
that  no  act,  nor  scarcely  word,  could  passe,  with¬ 
out  being  strictly  arraigned,  and  judg’d  at  the  barre 
of  every  common  souldier’s  discretion  ;  and  there¬ 
after  censur’d  and  exclaim’d  at.  Lastly,  the  few 
good  men  were  so  easily  blowne  up,  into  causelesse 
suspicions,  and  jealousies ;  and  there  were  so  many 
malignant  whispers,  dayly  spread  abroad,  of  every 
one  in  office,  that  it  was  impossible  for  any  man,  so 
worthily  to  demeane  himself,  but  that  a  jealous 
misconstruction  of  some  inconsiderable  trifle,  was 
enough  to  blaste  the  esteeme  of  all  his  actions, 
though  never  so  pious  and  deserving.’  Are  not 
sectaries  ever  substantially  the  same  ?  I  mean,  are 
not  the  tendencies  here  described,  the  properties  of 
sectarianism?  Yet,  as  God  uses  them,  so  would  I, 
in  prudence,  respect  them,  and,  in  measure,  acknow¬ 
ledge  them,  as  a  part  of  his  great  plan. 
#*#### 

My  friend,  will  you  come  up  and  preach  one  of 
your  Dublin  charity  sermons,  with  a  little  matter  of 
fact  additions,  for  D - ?  You  will  oblige  your 


*  Colonel  Hutchinson,  the  regicide.  .  .  Ed. 


371 

friends  at  B.  greatly ;  it  will  be  some  time  next 
month. 

Yours  most  truly, 

A.  K, 


LETTER  LIX. 

To  A .  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Aug.  20.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

#  #  #  #  #  # 

I  am  much  obliged  by  your  observations  on  my 
sermon;  and  doubt  not  they  are  substantially  just. 
Wise  caution  is  certainly  of  great  value  ;  and  im¬ 
provement  in  this  respect,  is,  perhaps,  no  bad  cri¬ 
terion  of  spiritual  improvement.  I  feel  how  much 
I  am  still  wanting,  in  this  important  particular;  yet 
I  hope  that,  on  the  whole,  I  am  rather  advancing. 
It  was  not  altogether  without  forethought  and  de¬ 
liberation,  that  I  ventured  to  bring  forward  the  topic 
of  perfection :  had  I  been  to  preach  before  a  critical, 
and  theological  audience,  it  is  probable  that  I  should 
have  been  more  guarded ;  but,  in  fact,  I  was  well 

aware  that  of  controversies,  the  C - -  audience  knows 

nothing ;  and  I  read  to  M.  and  Whitty,  what  I  had 
written,  previous  to  its  delivery :  requesting  their 
opinion,  whether  I  went  too  far.  They  cordially 
agreed  with  my  entire  statement ;  and  I  hope  were 
somewhat  confirmed  by  it,  in  just  views,  and  in  a 
determination  to  press  forward.  As  to  the  congre¬ 
gation  at  large,  I  thought  that  service  might  be  done, 

BBS 


372 


by  raising  their  views  to  an  elevated  mark.  The 
wisdom  of  not  putting  ‘  new  wine  into  old  bottles’,  I 
deeply  feel :  but  here,  I  think  the  thing  chiefly  to  be 
avoided,  is,  laying  down  strict  rules,  which  will  be 
considered  harsh,  overstrained,  and  impracticable. 
When  a  high  state  is  held  up,  as  attainable,  and  when 
that  state,  is  manifestly  a  happy  one,  then,  I  conceive, 
encouragement  is  held  out,  to  prayer,  and  to  self¬ 
watchfulness.  And,  in  this  view  of  the  subject,  I 
do  not  know,  whether  guardedly,  and  with  wise 
limitations,  to  state  the  doctrine  of  perfection,  may 
not  be  serviceable  to  those  who  are  in  a  low  state, 
and  who  can  but  indistinctly  apprehend  it.  If,  in¬ 
deed,  there  be  captious  critics,  professed  formalists, 
or  polemical  religionists  to  deal  with,  I  should  then 
abstain,  most  deliberately,  from  every  phrase  and 
term,  that  would  be  likely  to  give  alarm.  But,  in 
the  present  case,  I  believe,  no  harm  has  been  done 
to  the  many,  and  some  good  to  a  few. 

The  last  paragraph  I  put  where  it  was,  because  I 
thought  it  the  climax  of  the  whole  communion  service; 
and  because  it  contained  most  weighty  and  important 
sentiments,  with  which,  rather  than  any  others,  I 
wished  to  dismiss  my  communicants  to  the  Lord’s 
table.  It  occurs,  indeed,  early  in  the  service ;  but 
then,  as  being  the  statement  of  benefit  resulting  from 
a  worthy  participation,  it  points  out  the  end  of  the 
institution  ;  that,  which  of  course  should  be  upper¬ 
most  in  the  thoughts,  when  we  actually  approach  the 
holy  table. 

I  return  you  many  thanks  for  the  morality  of 
St.  Austin.  This  Abbe  Le  Grou,  seems  to  have 
anatomized  the  human  mind,  beyond  most  writers, 
even  of  his  own  communion  ;  he  is  admirable,  too,  for 
the  depth,  and  distinctness,  with  which  he  attributes 


373 


every  thing  good,  to  divine  grace.  I  wish  protestant 
polemics,  would  give  a  fair  reading  to  such  books  ; 
they  would  furnish  weapons  of  the  best  temper,  for 
opposing  erroneous  sentiments  of  human  merit. 
Clear  I  am,  that  we  never  shall  succeed,  till  we  play 
off  the  church  of  Rome  against  itself;  counteracting 
what  is  bad,  by  that  which  is  good,  in  writers  of  their 
own  communion.  But  in  truth,  this  is  only  giving 
you  back  an  opinion,  I  have  often  heard  from  your 
own  lips.  All  I  can  say  is,  the  opinion  appears  to 
derive  fresh  strength,  from  the  little  book  you  sent  me. 
By  the  way,  I  employed  half  an  hour,  tuesday  night, 
in  advocating  the  cause  of  R.  C.  divinity,  against 

- ,  who  appeared  to  conceive  very  slightingly  of  it. 

I  adverted  to  a  distinction,  which  should,  in  fairness, 
be  made,  between  the  religious  views  of  the  church, 
and  the  practical  enormities  of  the  court  of  Rome. 
After  one  or  two  favourite  quotations  from  Kempis, 
I  stated  the  advantage  they  derived,  from  their  copious 
use  of  the  fathers ;  adducing,  by  way  of  contrast, 
what  Burnet  complains  of,  after  Mr.  Charteris,  re¬ 
specting  the  mere  controversial  use,  which  protestants 

make  of  the  fathers.  W -  admitted,  that  the 

R.  C - s  had  an  advantage  in  this  ;  but  urged 

that  their  advantage,  here,  was  not  as  papists,  but 
as  followers  of  primitive  piety.  He  pressed  me, 
therefore,  to  show  any  good  result,  from  what  was 
clearly  popish ;  for  which  purpose,  I  quoted  J.  J. 

D - ’s  fine  observation,  about  their  having  given 

their  heads  in  safe-keeping  to  the  church  ;  and  dwelt 
a  little,  on  the  useful  bias  given  towards  the  contem¬ 
plative  life,  by  monastic  institutions. 

Your  quotation  from  Mrs.  Hutchinson  interests  me 
so,  that  I  long  to  read  the  book.  Could  you  procure 
it  for  me  ?  If  so,  I  will  thankfully  repay  you ;  or 

b  b  3 


374. 


Mr.  Keene,  if  he  has  it,  can  place  it  to  my  account ; 
arid  the  Archbishop,  I  am  sure,  would  kindly  under¬ 
take  the  conveyance  of  it. 

How  truly  concerned  I  am,  that  I  cannot  go  up  to 

preach  for  D - .  I  am  ordered,  positively  ordered 

to  Ballyspellan  by  Dr.  Evans ;  and  this  will  interfere 
with  it  inevitably ;  and  indeed,  besides,  other  reasons 
would  make  locomotion  impracticable,  till  after 
Christmas. 

I  recollect  having  read,  several  years  ago,  the 
production  of  Benjamin  Heath  Malkin,  which  I  think 
he  entitled,  ‘  Essays  on  subjects  connected  with 
civilization  and  improvement.' 9  Among  many  para¬ 
doxes,  filled  out  of  the  stagnant  pools  of  modem 
philosophy,  this  gentleman  thought  proper  to  intro¬ 
duce  a  confident  assertion,  that  our  British  consti¬ 
tution,  is  no  constitution,  because,  forsooth,  it  did  not 
spring  up  at  once  like  a  mushroom,  or  like  Minerva. 
For  my  own  part,  I  cannot  help  attributing  much  of 
the  excellence  of  our  constitution,  to  the  very  circum¬ 
stance,  which  Mr.  M - complains  of;  its  gradual, 

and  seemingly  fortuitous  production.  I  conceive 
that  its  tardy  evolution,  bespeaks  something  fitter  to 
endure ;  as  the  oak  of  the  forest,  is  the  slow,  but 
majestic  growth  of  ages.  I  think,  too,  that  its  suc¬ 
cessive,  and  unpremeditated  adoption  of  ingredients, 
from  every  form  of  government ;  its  wise,  yet  inar¬ 
tificial  provisions  against  contingencies,  which  expe¬ 
rience,  alone,  could  anticipate :  and  especially,  the 
involved  and  intricate  course  of  preparative  events, 
and  predisposing  causes,  which  Dr.  Miller  *  is  so 
ably  developing,  that  these,  altogether  prove  the  work 


*  I  he  Rev.  George  Miller,  D.D.,  the  learned  author  of  ‘  The  Philosophy  of 
Modern  History.’  .  .  Ed. 


to  be  something  more  than  human  ;  and  give  us 
reason  to  trust,  that  these  countries  have  been,  and 
will  be,  specially  preserved,  for  the  discharge  of  some 
mighty  function ;  connected  with  the  happiness  of 
mankind,  and  with  the  advancement  of  the  Messiah’s 
Kingdom. 

But  it  is  not  about  the  constitution,  that  I  mean  to 
trouble  you  any  further,  than  as,  by  analogy,  it  has 
suggested  a  train  of  thought,  respecting  our  beloved 
liturgy.  This  latter  is  not  the  work  of  one  man  ;  of 
one  society ;  or  of  one  age :  it  is,  like  the  British 
constitution,  a  precious  result  of  accumulative,  and 
collective  wisdom.  Its  materials  were  gradually 
formed,  and  safely  deposited,  among  the  records  of 
various  churches,  eastern,  and  western,  more  and  less 
ancient,  more  and  less  pure ;  and  when  time  was  ripe 
for  its  formation,  its  compilers  were  led,  I  verily  be¬ 
lieve,  by  a  wisdom  not  their  own,  to  proceed  on  the 
principle,  of  rejecting  whatever  was  peculiar,  to  any 
sect  or  party,  to  any  age  or  nation ;  and  retaining 
that  sacred  depositum,  which  had  the  common  sanc¬ 
tion  of  all.  So  that,  in  addition  to  the  touchstone  of 
sacred  Scripture,  we  have  the  ‘  semper  et  ubique  ’  of 
the  catholic  church,  to  satisfy  us,  that  this,  our 
national  commentary,  is  framed  according  to  the 
analogy  of  faith. 

The  question,  as  it  has  usually  been  put,  is  between 
our  catholic  liturgy,  and  a  liturgy  framed  by  one  in¬ 
dividual,  or  by  one  church.  But  may  we  not  venture 
to  rest  the  merits  of  the  case,  on  a  far  broader,  and 
to  our  adversaries,  a  much  more  favourable  suppos¬ 
ition  ?  Let  us,  for  instance,  imagine,  that,  instead  of 
our  present  public  service,  we  could  substitute  a 
liturgy  entirely  composed,  at  the  period  of  the  re- 

b  b  4  , 


376 


formation,  by  a  select  committee  of  the  wisest,  the 
most  pious,  and  the  least  prejudiced  members,  of  all 
the  protestant  churches.  It  is  evident,  that  this 
would  give  us  merely  the  speculative  and  practical 
views  of  a  single  period ;  and  that,  with  the  express 
exclusion  of  one  integral,  though  erroneous  member, 
of  Christ’s  church,  the  Roman  catholic.  I  should, 
indeed,  havO  said  two :  for  the  Greek  church  has  not 
been  included  in  our  supposition.  But  we  well  know, 
that,  in  human  science,  each  period  of  the  world  has 
had  its  favourite  theory.  This  is  notoriously  the  case, 
in  physics,  in  astronomy,  in  jurisprudence,  and  in 
morals ;  and  why  not,  also,  in  theology  ?  From 
analogy,  then,  it  is  probable,  that  divinity  has  had  its 
fashions ;  that  there  has  commonly,  been,  if  I  may 
use  so  homely  an  expression,  a  run  upon  some  pecu¬ 
liar  opinion,  which,  for  the  time,  has  given  the  tone 
to  theological  sentiment.  But  I  conceive  that  the 
testimony  of  ecclesiastical  history,  establishes  the 
fact  beyond  question  or  appeal.  It  requires  no  great 
depth  of  investigation  to  discover,  that  matters  have, 
almost  uniformly,  been  so  regulated  by  divine  Pro¬ 
vidence,  as,  in  every  period  of  Christianity,  to  turn 
the  catholic  current,  towards  some  extreme ;  for  the 
purpose  of  counteracting  an  opposite  and  more  dan¬ 
gerous  tendency,  in  some  heretical  branch,  that 
threatened  to  overflow  its  safe  channels,  and  to  con¬ 
vey  along  with  it  the  true  catholic  doctrine.  And  I 
think  it  may  be  proved,  that,  at  the  era  of  the  re¬ 
formation,  there  was,  in  the  protestant  church,  a 
spring-tide,  in  favour  of  forensic  justification  ;  which, 
perhaps,  was  the  only  counter-active  then  attain¬ 
able,  to  the  popish  exaggerations  of  human  merit : 
but  which,  it  must  be  admitted,  threatened  to  over¬ 
whelm  the  pure,  and  holy  principles,  of  communicated 


377 


righteousness,  and  spiritual  regeneration.  Hence, 
then,  it  appears,  that  the  prevalent  theology  of  no 
given  period,  could  be  hopefully  trusted  with  the 
formation  of  a  liturgy,  calculated  purely  and  per¬ 
manently  to  exhibit  true  Christianity,  in  its  just  pro¬ 
portions,  without  deficiency,  and  without  excess : 

\  and  that,  for  very  important  reasons,  the  theology  of 
the  reformation  was  peculiarly  ill  suited,  for  this  dif¬ 
ficult  and  delicate  office.  The  fact  is,  that  a  catholic 
liturgy,  must  be  formed  on  a  catholic  plan ;  that  is, 
from  a  harmony  of  those  dispersed  and  vital  truths, 
which,  in  different  ages,  different  countries,  and  dif¬ 
ferent  churches,  were  popularly,  and  effectually  em¬ 
bodied,  in  established  liturgies.  And  must  we  not 
account  it  a  wonderful  interposition  of  providential 
wisdom,  that,  at  a  period  when  our  reformers,  if  they 
had  themselves  undertaken  to  compose  a  new  liturgy, 
or  had  called  in  foreign  aid  to  assist  them,  must 
almost  inevitably,  have  fallen  into  doctrinal  excess  ; 
that,  at  such  a  period,  these  men,  wise,  indeed,  and 
good,  but  fallible,  and  not  exempt  from  the  prejudices 
of  their  day,  should  be  led  to  proceed,  on  the  very 
plan  just  pointed  out  ?  On  the  very  plan,  I  say ;  for 
we  find,  that  our  liturgy  is  compiled,  from  almost 
every  form  of  prayer,  then  extant ;  from  the  ancient 
greek  and  roman  liturgies ;  from  the  sacramentary  of 
Gregory ;  from  the  missal  of  Sarum ;  and,  where 
ancient  liturgies  seemed  to  fail  of  appropriate  matter, 
from  lutheran,  and  even  from  calvinistic  formularies: 
in  these  latter  instances,  indeed,  we  observe,  that 
certain  doctrinal  asperities  are  mitigated,  by  the  same 
mild  spirit,  which  pervades  the  rest  of  the  service. 
Thus  7ravra;£7j  ryv  oLhrfiziav,  is  the  motto  of  our  church  ; 
and  if  my  theory  be  not  fanciful,  it  is  in  virtue  of 
this  ubiquitarian  principle  that  she  has  attained  the 


378 

true  temperament,  both  of  doctrinal,  and  spiritual 
religion. 

It  is,  perhaps,  not  wholly  improbable,  that,  at  an 
earlier  period  than  the  reformation,  there  had  not 
been  a  sufficiency  of  deviation  from  speculative  and 
practical  rectitude,  to  excite  a  keen  regard  for  that 
truth  and  good,  which  was  in  danger  ;  that  there 
had  not  been  perfect  specimens  of  all  the  errors, 
which  were  to  be  guarded  against  for  the  future  ; 
may  we  not  add,  that  there  had  not  been  a  church, 
in  all  respects  so  well  and  happily  circumstanced,  as 
the  anglican,  for  making  a  selection,  at  once,  rational 
and  spiritual ;  moderate,  though  fervent ;  undogma- 
tic,  and  yet  theologically  sound  ?  And,  I  conceive, 
it  would  not  be  difficult  to  prove,  that,  from  the 
theological  disputes,  which  have  ever  since,  more  or 
less,  subsisted  in  England,  as  well  as  in  foreign  pro- 
testant  churches,  no  period  subsequent  to  the  reform¬ 
ation,  would  have  been  equally  favourable,  to  the 
compilation  of  this  truly  wonderful  book. 

In  the  sermon  which  you  saw  and  heard,  I  re¬ 
marked  that  the  style  of  our  liturgy,  considering 
the  period  of  its  composition,  is  in  itself,  a  kind  of 
literary  miracle  ;  and,  that  this  form  of  sound  words, 
whilst  it  can  never  become  antiquated  whilst  the 
English  language  retains  its  strength  and  purity, 
will  always  excite  an  emotion  of  mingled  awe  and 
admiration,  by  the  venerable  simplicity  of  former 
times.  On  this  topic,  a  further  idea  has  occurred  to 
me ;  namely,  that,  if  our  liturgy,  like  most  other 
productions  of  the  same  day,  had  not  only  abounded 
with  uncouth  phraseology,  but  been  cast,  as  it  were, 
in  a  vulgar  mould ;  subsequent  alterations,  not  only 
verbal,  but  radical,  would  have  been  indispensable ; 
and  in  the  case  of  such  alterations,  much  as  we 


379 


should  have  had  cause  to  lament  the  impracticability, 
of  attaining  that  impressive  dignity,  which  is  the  fruit 
of  a  green,  and  graceful  old  age,  there  would  be  a 
circumstance  of  far  deeper  moment,  because  it  would 
strike  at  the  very  root  of  our  true  Church-of-England 
divinity.  Let  us  only  ask  ourselves,  at  what  period, 
since  the  establishment  of  Edward’s  second  book, 
would  it  have  been  safe  to  trust  our  leading  divines, 
with  a  radical  alteration  of  our  liturgy?  We  know 
the  temper  and  spirit  of  the  calvinists,  in  Elizabeth’s 
reign  ;  of  the  high  churchmen,  under  the  Stewarts  ; 
of  Tillotson’s  party,  on  the  one  hand,  and  Atterbury’s 
and  South’s,  on  the  other,  in  the  subsequent  reigns ; 
.  .  and,  with  respect  to  the  prevailing  divinity  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  4  silence  in  mercy.’  A  detailed 
view  of  particulars  would  surely  authorize  the  con¬ 
clusion,  that  at  no  assignable  period,  would  the  ruling 
party  have  been  satisfied,  with  a  mere  improvement 
of  the  style  ;  and  the  doctrine  and  the  spirit  would 
have  undergone  a  dreadful  mutilation  ;  that  we 
should  in  vain  have  had  to  look  for  that  primitive 
piety,  that  deep  experimental  feeling,  and,  I  cannot 
help  adding,  that  sublime  Christian  philosophy,  which, 
at  present,  so  justly  excite  our  admiration,  and  warm 
our  hearts.  The  style,  then,  of  our  liturgy,  has  been 
the  safeguard  of  its  spirit. 

Farewell,  my  dear  friend. 


«J  i  J  • 


380 


*  »  »  •  t  *»  / 


LETTER  50. 

•  '  •  t  1  ' 

1«  V  I  «  .  -  •  *  *■  * 

To  Mo  Rev.  J.  Jebb. 

i>  .  .  * 

Dawson  Street,  Oct.  10.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  returned  home  yesterday,  after  my  fortnight’s 
ramble.  During  the  course  of  it,  I  could  have 
wished  to  have  written  to  you;  but  I  was  so  occu¬ 
pied,  and  so  much  in  motion,  that  I  actually  wrote 
nothing,  except  one  or  two  very  short  letters.  At 

D - ’s  we  were  very  comfortable  ;  except  that 

C - seemed  to  think  it  incumbent  on  him,  to  give 

a  full-length  display  of  Calvinism,  to  Mrs.  L - ; 

and  therefore,  while  he  was  present,  all  was  polemical. 

In  fact,  poor  C - appeared  to  worse  advantage, 

than  on  any  former  occasion  :  but,  when  the  thoughts 
were  in  his  mind,  I  was  glad  they  came  forth  ;  as  it 
exemplified  to  our  worthy  friend,  what  I  had  so  long 
been  telling  her  about. 

In  other  respects,  things  went  on  very  pleasantly, 
though  not  in  any  manner  implying  a  change  of  sen¬ 
timent  in  our  friend.  It  is  his  wish,  I  am  sure,  to 
feel  with  us,  as  much  as  is  consistent  with  his  specu¬ 
lative  differences  from  us ;  and  therefore,  nothing 
could  be  less  pugnacious,  than  his  whole  conduct; 
yet  he  said  once  or  twice,  what  I  heard  with  regret, 
as  letting  me  know,  that  his  mind  was  still  too  much 
entangled  in  his  old  subtilties.  After  all,  he  is  an 
uncommon  man  ;  and  his  excellencies  are  such,  as  to 
make  him  be  loved,  and  almost  delighted  in,  in  spite 
of  whatever  innocent  errors,  for  innocent,  in  him,  I 


381 


must  believe  them,  though,  as  far  as  I  understand 
them,  they  are  the  very  antipodes  almost,  of  what  I 
think  and  believe  on  those  subjects.  ; 

Mrs. - and  Miss - ,  seem  to  me,  to  grow  in 

goodness.  I  do  not  know  two  better  women.  Mrs. 

- ’s  sister,  is  also  one  of  the  best  disposed  women, 

that  can  be ;  encouraging,  and  delighting  in,  the 
most  directly  good  conversation.  And  there  was, 

also,  a  calvinist  young  lady  there,  a  Miss  D - ; 

who,  1  believe,  was  not  a  little  revolted,  by  the 
strong  manner  in  which  I  thought  it  right  to  address 

myself  to  C - ;  but  was  afterwards  conciliated  by 

what  I  said,  when  he  was  absent,  of  him  and  his 
opinions  ;  and  also  respecting  the  indispensable  ne¬ 
cessity  of  divine  grace,  and  the  distinctness  of  its 
results  ;  a  topic,  on  which  I  seldom  fail  to  please 
honest  calvinists,  by  merely  stating  my  own  simple 
ideas ;  and,  I  own,  1  am  always  gratified  by  our 
agreement.  When  I  can,  therefore,  I  keep  on  this 
line,  in  talking  to  them ;  advancing  as  far  as  I  can 
upon  it,  but  not  deviating  from  it.  But  the  tho¬ 
roughly  pious  calvinists  only,  will  go  on  with  me  in 
this  way.  The  dogmatists  will  try  you  on  points  of 
difference ;  and,  after  you  are  obliged  to  dissent,  will 
be  too  apt  to  hear  all  you  say  afterward,  with  some 
jealousy,  at  least  with  coldness  and  reserve.  So  did 

not  Miss  D -  ;  nor  I  think  would  even  C - , 

had  we  been  alone. 

-  has  written  me  a  good,  plain,  well  con¬ 
ceived  letter ;  and  says  he  was  going  to  Cashel  to  see 
you.  Your  opinion  of  him  will  be  interesting  to  me. 
He  speaks  of  you  with  great  warmth  ;  and  I  am  sure 
he  speaks  from  his  heart. 

Observe  what  is  said  of  the  methodist  conference, 
in  the  617th  page  of  the  Christian  Observer  and, 


particularly,  at  the  bottom  of  the  last  column.  The 
remarks  made  on  their  proceedings,  are  temperate 
and  judicious :  but  there  is  no  remark,  on  what 
strikes  me  most ;  that  is,  the  necessity  which  they 
obviously  feel,  for  fencing  themselves  against  doc¬ 
trinal  innovation.  This  proclaims  their  danger,  much 
more  than  it  provides  for  their  security.  Were  we 
to  see  them  taking  the  ground  of  sound  sense,  and 
maintaining  it  soberly,  and  intelligently,  then,  much 
might  be  expected.  But,  when  they  build  their  wall, 
with  such  materials  as  are  here  produced,  I  cannot 
build  on  its  permanency.  4  Total  depravity  of  human 
nature’,  is,  at  once,  exceptionable,  and  ambiguous. 
*  The  human  mind’,  says  Archbishop  Leighton, 
c  however  stunned  and  weakened  by  so  dreadful  a 
fall,  still  retains  some  faint  idea,  some  confused  and 
obscure  notions,  of  the  good  it  has  lost ;  and  some 
remaining  seeds  of  its  heavenly  original  :  Cognata 
semina  coeli.’  Who  was  sounder  than  this  divine  ? 
yet,  clearly,  what  he  describes,  is  not  total  depravity. 
Total  captivity,  or  total  impotency,  may  fairly  be 
allowed ;  but  total  depravity,  is  too  crude  an  idea,  to 
be  made  a  standard  expression. 

I  fear,  however,  the  witness  of  the  spirit,  is  a 
still  more  ominous  sort  of  test.  They  are  evidently 
anxious  to  stand  high,  without  sufficiently  examining 
whether  they  stand  firm.  They  scarcely  attempt  to 
define,  what  they  are  here  making  a  term  of  commu¬ 
nion.  And,  therefore,  I  conceive,  they  are  only  es¬ 
tablishing,  what  will  be  so  much  the  sooner  rescinded 
and  rejected.  It  is,  I  suspect,  a  mound  of  shifting 
sand,  against  a  rising  tide. 

Is  not  the  first  article  in  the  Eclectic,  a  lively  kind 
of  thing?  I  take  it  to  be  Foster.  But,  if  so,  how 
curious  is  it  to  observe  his  tenderness  to  Southey  5 


383 


as  if  there  was  a  latent  congeniality,  between  their 
minds  and  views.  Read  what  is  said  of  the  same 
thing,  in  the  B.  C.,  and  mark  the  difference.  My 
friend,  I  own  I  fear  that  a  time  will  yet  come,  when 
the  now  multiplied  dissenters,  will  act  as  odd  a  part, 
as  any  that  have  gone  before  them.  I  almost  think 
that  the  mystery  of  iniquity  already  worketh. 

Yours  most  truly, 

A.K. 


LETTER  LX. 

To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 

Cashel,  Oct.  13.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Majch  of  your  account  of - has  afforded  me  sin¬ 

cere  gratification.  Any  radical  change  of  sentiment 
in  our  friend,  I  did  not  expect ;  but  what  you  say  of 
his  disposition  to  feel  as  much  as  he  can  with  you,  is 
very  pleasant :  then,  it  is  delightful,  that  the  females 
are  so  happily  progressive.  Matters  in  this  diocese, 
I  think  are  rapidly  improving.  W - has  had  asto¬ 

nishing  success,  for  the  short  time  he  has  been  set¬ 
tled  at  G - .  His  poor  protestant  parishioners,  who 

were  a  miserable,  disheartened  set  of  people,  when  he 
came  among  them,  are  now  beginning  to  look  up  ; 
to  stand  erect;  to  go  with  pleasure,  and  even  with  a 
degree  of  honest  pride  #,  to  church ;  from  which,  it 

*  At  a  later  period,  the  Bishop  would  not  have  used  this  phrase.  Pride,  he 
regarded  as  so  'dangerous  an  enemy,  that  the  very  word  could  not  be  used, 
safely,  in  any  but  an  unchristian  sense.  .  .  En. 


384 


is  to  be  feared,  they  formerly  absented  themselves, 
through  a  shame  of  their  numerous  roman  catholic 
neighbours.  For  all  this,  I  was  in  a  good  measure 
prepared ;  but  I  was  not  prepared,  for  his  becoming 
popular  with  the  surrounding  gentry.  This,  how¬ 
ever,  is  actually  the  case.  People  of  most  respect¬ 
able  rank  and  property  in  the  county,  to  the  distance 
of  seven  or  eight  miles,  have  turned  to  him,  and 
almost  thrown  themselves  upon  him,  as  a  serious  and 
pious  clergyman.  One  gentleman  comes,  every  sun- 
day,  a  distance  of  eight  miles  to  his  church,  from  a 
neglected  parish  in  the  diocese  of  Killaloe ;  who  is 
earnestly  in  pursuit  of  inward  religion,  has  established 
family  prayer  in  his  house,  and,  in  every  particular, 
gives  promise  of  proving  a  truly  exemplary  character. 
It  should  be  observed,  that  he  has  a  very  large  for¬ 
tune,  an  extensive  influence,  and  is  one  of  the  best 
magistrates,  and  most  active  country  gentlemen,  that 
the  county  affords.  The  turn  for  seriousness,  and 
even  for  deep  piety,  which  begins  to  show  itself  in 

that  quarter,  astonishes  W - .  He  has  absolutely 

taken  no  steps  to  bring  it  about,  olutoixoltyi  yJ  yr)  xolqtto- 
.  .  and  he  is  fully  disposed  to  proceed  in  the 
quietest,  the  least  obtrusive,  the  most  rational,  and 
the  most  regular  manner ;  forcing  nothing,  but 
giving  every  wise,  and  honest  encouragement,  to  the 
progress  of  what  is  good.  I  own,  I  look  upon  his 
transplantation,  as  a  blessing  to  the  district  he  is 
placed  in :  and  as  one  of  the  most  valuable  acquisi¬ 
tions,  which  this  diocese  ever  has  received.  The 
good  Archbishop,  with  whom  I  had  much  convers¬ 
ation  yesterday,  is,  I  trust,  disposed  to  view  these 
matters,  in  no  very  different  light  from  myself.  I 
hope  these  two  excellent  men  will  come  closer  toge¬ 
ther  ;  as  I  think  they  may  be  of  mutual  service  to 


385 


each  other;  and  as  I  conceive,  it  is  of  great  import¬ 
ance,  that  W - ’s  merits,  should  be  duly  felt.  As 

to  the  Archbishop,  you  would  every  day  delight  in 
him  more  and  more.  He  is,  I  believe,  as  pure  a 
man  as  upon  earth ;  and  continually  growing,  in  all 
that  is  wise  and  good.  Indeed,  my  dear  friend,  if  it 
please  God  that  you  should  come  here,  there  is  be¬ 
fore  you  a  greater  field  for  usefulness,  than  perhaps 
any  where  else.  The  Archbishop  longs  for  you. 

W - too,  looks  out  most  earnestly  ;  he  is  prepared 

to  drink  in,  and  imbibe  deeply,  and  to  pour  forth 
wisely,  the  very  views  and  sentiments,  that  you  love 
to  communicate.  And  I  soberly  think,  that,  from 
the  enlarged  sphere  which  is  opening  to  him,  he  may 
be  God’s  instrument,  for  leavening  a  large,  and  most 
respectably  inhabited,  district  of  country.  But  to 
the  Archbishop  himself,  you  will  be  of  very  great 
service.  I  do  not  say  how  much  I  myself  wish  for 
your  counsel :  you  ought  to  know,  that,  under  God, 
I  am  indebted  to  you,  for  whatever  I  know,  or  feel, 
that  is  right ;  and  you  may,  therefore,  judge  how  I 
have  been  affected,  by  the  prospect  of  seeing  you. 

I  thank  you  for  Walker’s  pamphlet.  It  presents 
to  my  view,  something  approaching  very  dismally  to 
cheerless  atheism  ;  but  it  is,  I  think,  very  curious,  in 
another  respect;  as  showing,  that,  to  act  consist¬ 
ently,  all  the  advocates  of  un mixed,  or  of  selective 
communion,  must  proceed  to  the  wildest  extreme  of 
his  own  extravagant  system. 

I  had  paid  some  attention,  before  your  letter 
reached  me,  to  the  minutes  of  the  methodist  confer¬ 
ence  ;  and  was  particularly  struck  with  the  mention 
of  ‘  total  depravity’,  I  need  not  say,  that  my  train 
of  thought  was  coincident  with  yours ;  but  it  is 
curious,  that,  just  as  your  letter  came  in,  I  was  talk- 

vol.  i.  c  c 


386 


ing  to  Mr.  M - ,  of  seeds  of  good  in  human 

nature :  I  read  him  the  passage  you  quote,  from 
Archbishop  Leighton,  in  confirmation  ;  and  the  al¬ 
most  literal  agreement,  at  once  surprized,  and  de¬ 
lighted  him.  Things  surely  must  be  in  a  most 
disjointed  state,  among  the  English  methodists.  Is 
it  not  pretty  clear,  from  the  mounds  they  are  striving 
to  raise,  that  pelagianism,  socinianism,  rationalism, 
and  antinomianism,  are  gaining  ground  among  them  ? 
So,  at  least,  it  appears  to  me ;  and,  that  the  evil  is 
spreading  widely,  I  infer  from  the  fact,  that  they 
exclude  only  from  official  situation,  those  who  hold 
opinions  contrary  to  the  divinity  of  Christ !  Surely, 
in  the  better  days  of  methodism,  an  innovator  of  this 
leaven,  would  have  been  expelled  from  the  society 
with  horror.  The  fact,  I  believe,  is,  that  methodism, 
originally,  was  the  salt  of  our  establishment;  and 
that,  when  it  had  communicated  a  new  spirit  to  a 
portion  of  that  establishment,  it  speedily  lost  its  savour. 
I  trust  the  influence  it  has  had,  and  the  effect  it  has 
produced  over  its  own  body,  will  not  soon  decay. 
How  far  it  may  now  be  in  a  state  of  progress  towards 
infidelity,  in  order  to  be  God’s  providential  instru¬ 
ment  for  purifying  by  persecution,  the  establishment 
which  it  has  heretofore  renovated  by  an  infusion  of 
piety,  time  alone  can  discover  :  but  I  own  I  look 
forward  to  a  reign  of  irreligion,  which  will  be  the 
means  of  rendering  more  intense,  the  Christianity  of 
a  Small  remnant.  If  we  live  to  see  these  days,  may 
we  be  divinely  enabled  to  be  true  and  faithful,  in  the 
midst  of  apostasy. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Friend, 

Yours  always  most  faithfully, 

John  Jebb. 

P.S.  I  shall  be  very  desirous  to  hear  from  you. 


387 


LETTER  LXI. 
To  A.  Knox ,  Esq . 


Cashel,  Oct.  29.  1807. 

My  dear  Friend, 

X  have  just  learned  from  the  Archbishop,  that  the 
present  state  of  the  country  has,  in  some  measure, 
shaken  your  intention  of  visiting  us.  I  believe  he 
intends  writing  himself,  by  this  post ;  lest  however, 
he  should  not,  I  cannot  avoid  assuring  you,  that  the 
roads  are  perfectly  safe  in  the  day  time ;  and  that, 
in  this  our  city,  you  may  be  as  quiet,  as  peaceable, 
and  as  free  from  outrage,  as  in  the  midst  of  Dublin 
itself.  Your  failing  to  come  among  us,  would  be  a 
most  grievous  disappointment ;  for  which  we  are  by 
no  means  prepared,  after  having  so  long  been  feast¬ 
ing  on  the  very  thought  of  seeing  you  ;  therefore,  if 
you  wish  for  our  perfection,  do  not  put  us  to  the 
trial  of  having  our  minds  overset  by  your  change  of 
plan. 

Two  nights  ago,  I  received  Col.  Blackader*,  for 
which  I  return  you  my  hearty  thanks.  It  is  very  in¬ 
teresting  and  instructive,  so  far  as  I  have  gone ;  and, 
I  dare  say,  will  prove  at  least  equally  so,  throughout. 
It  reached  me,  when  I  was  engaged  with  Sir  W. 
Forbes’s  Life  of  Beattie,  which  I  could  by  no  means 
desert.  This  last  is  surely  a  work  of  great  interest. 
I  am  particularly  struck  with  the  light  it  throws  upon 
Scotch  metaphysics;  and  am  confirmed  in  what  I 


*  The  Life  of  Colonel  Blackader.  .  .  Ed, 
C  C  2 


388 


before  suspected,  that  the  Edinburgh  reviewers  felt 
they  were  fighting  their  own  battle,  in  attacking  this 
work  so  bitterly.  They  evidently  hate  Beattie,  and 
Beattie’s  letters  ;  because  the  one  successfully  op¬ 
posed,  and  the  others  no  less  satisfactorily  exhibit, 
that  mystery  of  iniquity,  in  which  the  said  reviewers 
are  deeply  involved. 

4  A  cav’ling,  cold,  pert,  disputatious  train.’ 

It  delights  me  that  such  marked  predilection 
should  be  shown  for  our  establishment,  our  liturgy, 
and  even  our  ecclesiastical  constitution,  by  a  presby- 
terian,  a  stranger,  and  a  man  of  letters.  His  fond¬ 
ness,  too,  for  classical  literature  ;  his  undogmatic 
views  of  religion  ;  his  taste  for  the  scriptures ;  his 
cordial  detestation  of  metaphysical  entanglements ; 
all  endear  him  to  me.  His  religious  sentiments, 
doubtless,  were  often  superficial,  and  indistinct ;  but 
then,  I  cannot  help  thinking  he  would  have  been  a 
fit,  and  grateful  recipient  of  better  ways,  both  of 
thinking,  and  feeling,  had  they  been  thrown  in  his 
wav.  After  all,  divine  Providence  has  different  in- 
struments,  in  different  departments.  He  was  a  very 
useful  one,  in  his  way ;  and  had  he  never  written 
more  than  even  the  minstrel,  he  would  still  have 
been  no  common  benefactor :  for,  in  this  world,  ail 
innocent  and  elegant  amusement,  which  may,  into 
the  bargain,  improve  both  the  taste  and  the  affec¬ 
tions,  is  no  small  addition  to  our  common  stock. 

I  lately  wrote  a  sermon,  in  which  are  some  toler¬ 
ably  good  thoughts ;  some  allowable  plagiarism  from 
Chrysostom  ;  two  lines  and  a  half,  from  your  letter 
on  frames  and  feelings ;  about  as  much  from  John 
Smith ;  about  as  much  from  the  morality  of  St. 
Augustin ;  about  as  much  from  Plutarch :  and  the 


389 


rest,  I  hope  made  my  own ;  and  receiving  its  shape 
and  colour,  from  having  passed  though  my  mind  and 
Heart;  but,  assuredly,  in  the  first  instance,  imbibed 
from  you.  Therefore,  you,  in  fact,  mounted  the 
pulpit;  and  you  are  answerable  for  the  doctrine  I 
delivered.  Next  Sunday,  I  hope  to  preach  on  the 
subject  of  the  day,  it  being  the  festival  of  All  Saints. 
A  heavy  cold  has  impeded  me  hitherto :  but  I  ex¬ 
pect,  this  evening,  to  begin  in  earnest ;  and,  for  that 
purpose,  have  declined  dining  with  the  Archbishop. 
I  know  not  whether  I  told  you,  that  I  had  lately 
talked  with  J.  F. ;  and  think  him  a  very  important 
acquisition.  In  truth,  from  that  young  man,  I  ex¬ 
pect  extraordinary  things ;  and  he  seems  as  prudent, 
as  he  is  good. 

You  will  gratify  and  oblige  me  by  bringing  down 
Hutchinson,  and  anything  new  that  you  may  think 
it  right  for  me  to  have.  And,  in  addition,  could 
you  procure  for  me  the  transactions  of  the  Parisian 
Sanhedrim ;  Bonaparte’s  catechism  ;  and  Parson’s 
Christian  directory,  translated  by  Stanhope.  There 
is  a  London  edition,  I  think,  at  Dugdale’s.  This 
seems  to  me  one  of  the  R.  C.  books,  which  has  im¬ 
bibed  and  retained  the  true  primitive  spirit :  much 
from  the  fathers,  especially  St.  Chrysostom  and  St. 
Augustin. 

Farewell  my  dear  Friend, 

Yours  ever  most  gratefully, 

John  Jebb. 


c  c  3 


390 


LETTER  LXII. 

To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 

Cashel,  Tuesday,  Jan.  19.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  have  this  morning  had  two  visits  ;  of  which,  while 
the  impression  is  fresh  upon  my  mind,  I  wish  to 
give  you  some  account :  this  must  apologize  for  my 
so  prematurely  congratulating  you,  on  (I  trust)  your 
safe  arrival  at  home ;  and  your  happy  meeting  with  a 
friend,  who  must  have  been  anxious  to  see  you. # 

Just  as  I  had  finished  my  breakfast,  - came  in. 

He  told  me  that  he  had  felt  a  severe  pang,  at  learn¬ 
ing  that  you  had  left  Cashel.  He  had  no  idea  of 
your  going  so  soon ;  and  was  truly  grieved,  that  he 
had  not  an  opportunity  of  taking  his  leave,  and  I 
suspect,  also,  of  disburthening  his  mind.  For,  not 
being  in  any  measure  reconciled  to  himself,  he  con¬ 
cluded  that  he  must  have  sunk  in  your  estimation. 
So  perfectly  right  are  all  his  views  and  feelings, 
respecting  the  occurrence  of  last  week,  that  my 
office  was  rather  consolatorv,  than  corroborative.  The 
fact  is,  his  mind  was  so  wounded,  that  it  needed 
the  balm  which  my  friendship  could  afford.  Among 
other  things,  he  declared,  that  had  he  actually  gone 
to  that  place,  he  could  not  remain  in  Cashel :  that  so 
soon  as  his  place  here  could  be  filled,  he  would  have 
betaken  himself  to  his  parish  ;  from  a  feeling,  that 
his  usefulness  here  had  been  destroyed.  Even  as  it 
is,  he  thinks  that  his  mind  and  powers  are  not  ade¬ 
quate  to  the  situation  he  fills ;  that  it  oversets  him, 
intellectually  and  morally ;  and  that,  though  he  will 

*  Miss  Fergusson.  .  .  Ed. 


391 


certainly  do  nothing  rashly,  he  cannot  help  regard¬ 
ing  it  as  a  providential  indication,  that  Cashel  is  not 
to  be  his  destination ;  that  he  has,  repeatedly  and 
remarkably,  been  prevented  from  establishing  him¬ 
self  in  a  settled  residence  here,  when  on  the  very 
eve  of  completing  his  purpose.  He  threw  out,  also, 
an  idea,  that,  under  the  circumstances  which  have 
lately  occurred,  a  change  of  officers  might  be  essen¬ 
tial  to  the  success  of  the  scheme,  that  seems  to  be 
providentially  set  on  foot  amongst  us.  It  has  oc¬ 
curred  to  me,  that,  as  you  had  no  opportunity  of 
personal  communication  with  him,  a  short  letter, 
confirming  him  in  those  views,  which  he  not  only 
holds,  but  I  do  think  loves,  and  tending  to  restore 
him  in  his  own  estimation,  might  have  a  serviceable 
effect :  he  is,  in  truth,  a  most  guileless,  warm¬ 
hearted,  and  unworldly  man. 

Just  as  — -  went  out,  Whitty  came  in.  He  im¬ 

mediately  proceeded  to  unburthen  himself;  and  that, 
in  such  a  manner,  as  to  raise  him  very  considerably 
in  my  esteem  and  regard.  He  was  affected  even  to 
tears ;  and  what  I  was  gratified  with  was,  that  his 
sensibility  had  been  keenly  wounded  by  the  manner 
of  your  reproof.  He,  most  cordially  and  unreserv¬ 
edly,  admits,  and  feels,  the  force  of  all  your  argu¬ 
ments  ;  and  declares,  that  his  veneration  for  you 
is  such,  as  he  cannot  find  words  to  express.  He 
shrunk  from  the  idea  of  stating  to  you  all  that  he 
had  to  state,  not  in  the  way  of  justification,  but  to 
account  for  the  step  he  had  taken.  Strange  as  it 
may  seem,  he  actually  went  against  his  will,  and  all 
his  relishes,  on,  what  he  most  erroneously  conceived 
to  be,  a  point  of  duty.  In  forming  this  decision,  he 
was  strengthened  by  what  he  could  not  bring  him¬ 
self  to  mention  to  you, - ’s  having  gone,  two  years 

c  c  4 


392 


ago,  to  Lady  - ’s  ball.  He  now  clearly  sees, 

that  the  thing  was  most  decidedly  wrong ;  and  that, 
consequently,  it  could  not  be  justified  by  the  prac¬ 
tice  of  an  individual,  however  reputable.  He  also 

fully  feels,  that,  within  these  two  years, - ’s  views 

and  feelings,  have  undergone  essential  alteration ; 
and  that  that  admirable,  and  truly  evangelic  man,  is 
daily  growing  in  unmixed  goodness.  On  the  whole, 
the  conversation  I  had  with  Whitty,  has  left  on  my 
mind  a  very  pleasant  impression.  I  seem  to  perceive 
that  he  has  got  some  principles,  from  the  discourse 
you  pronounced  to  him,  which  will  be  of  general 
application :  and  certainly,  sensibilities  have  been 
called  forth  in  him,  by  this  occasion,  which  I  had 
not  known  were  in  his  nature.  I  leave  it  in  your 
judgment,  whether  a  letter  to  him,  might  not  be  a 
kind,  and  useful  thing.* 

I  saw  you  pass  this  morning,  with  a  pang  which  I 
could  not  repress,  though  I  hope  so  soon  to  have  the 
happiness  of  meeting  you.  Through  the  course  of 
the  day  I  have  been  low ;  and,  at  this  moment,  I 
feel  a  degree  of  regret,  which  a  rigid  censor  would 
call  weakness.  I  hope  it  is  something  better ;  and  I 
pray  that  it  may  be  kept  in  due  bounds.  You  your¬ 
self,  my  dear  Sir,  felt  it  when  we  parted,  and  I 
cannot  be  ashamed  to  feel  with  you. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Friend,  and  may  God  bless  you  ! 

John  Jebb. 

*  The  conversations  quoted  in  this  letter,  took  place,  in  consequence  of  Mr. 
Knox  having  strongly  remonstrated  with  the  excellent  clergyman  alluded  to, 
on  a  subject,  soon  afterwards,  more  fully  treated  by  Mr.  Jebb,  in  ‘  A  Letter  to 
a  Young  Clergyman  on  the  Subject  of  Fashionable  Amusements.’  Private 
impression.  Dublin:  1808.  Reprinted.  London:  1830.  See  *  Practical  Theology,’ 
vol.  ii.  p.  267.  .  .  Ed. 


393 


LETTER  51. 

To  the  Rev .  J,  Jebb . 

Jan.  22.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Y  our  letter  gratified  me  much  ;  and  I  mean  to 
follow  your  advice,  whenever  I  can  get  myself  in 
proper  tune  for  doing,  what  would  be,  in  my  line, 
rather  a  new  thing;  new,  I  mean,  as  to  accidental 
habit,  I  having  never  had  occasion  to  write  exactly 
under  the  same  circumstances  before.  I  was  pro¬ 
sperous  in  my  journey;  I  had  the  moon,  coming  out, 
on  Wednesday  morning,  and  I  had  the  sun,  coming 
in ;  his  setting  beams,  were  flaming  on  all  the  win¬ 
dows  about  the  circular  road,  as  I  passed  it.  Poor 

S - is  more  reasonable;  he  called  on  me,  tues- 

day;  and  I  thought  I  could  not  do  better  than  pro¬ 
duce,  what  had  entertained  a  man  ill  in  body,  to 
one  who,  I  feared,  was  but  sick  in  mind.  I,  accord¬ 
ingly,  showed  him  your  107th  Psalm  *  ;  and  after¬ 
wards,  when  I  saw  fitting,  the  sermon  on  the  mount, 
with  which  he  was  greatly  delighted.  Poor  fellow ! 
I  will  do  my  best  to  keep  him,  now  I  have  got  him 
(a  little)  again.  I  have  to  say  a  word  or  two  to  the 
Archbishop ;  and  therefore,  must  say  only  to  you, 
that  I  am, 

Ever  yours, 

A.  K. 

*  See  the  Christian  Observer  for  January,  1810;  in  which  the  paper  here 
referred  to,  was  afterwards  inserted  inadvertently,  by  a  friend,  without  the 
Bishop’s  knowledge,  and  consequently  without  having  received  his  final  correc¬ 
tion.  .  .  Ed. 


394 


LETTER  52. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb. 


Jan.  23.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

In  sending  you  a  packet  of  Methodist  Magazines,  I 
wish  just  to  say  a  word  or  two. 

Observe  the  extracts  from  Paley.  Are  they  not 
wonderful?  At  first,  I  imagined  they  must  be 
some  remains  of  early  writings ;  but,  from  what  is 
said  in  the  remarks  on  Dr.  Gray’s  dialogue,  I  should 
rather  infer,  that  they  have  been  written  by  him 
in  his  latest  years.  I  am,  therefore,  anxious  to  see 
the  newly  published  volume  of  his  sermons  ;  but 
they  have  not  yet  come  to  Ireland. 

Within  this  hour,  I  have  a  letter  from - , 

enclosing  a  specimen  of  his  arrangement  of  the 
sermon  on  the  mount.  His  intention  is  to  follow 
you  ;  and  he  has,  so  far,  generally  done  so ;  but  I 
perceive  some  variety  in  the  divisions,  and  I  think 
it  will  be  interesting,  to  compare  the  whole  of  his, 
with  yours.  I  shall,  of  course,  urge  him  to  go  on 
with  it ;  but,  at  all  events,  it  is  no  trifling  sanction 
of  the  general  idea,  that  such  a  mind  as  his  should 
take  to  it  so  cordially. 

Poor  Stopford  visited  me,  in  a  kind  way,  yester¬ 
day.  I  put  your  107th  Psalm  first,  and  then  the 
sermon  on  the  mount*,  into  his  hands.  I  was  glad 
to  have  such  a  matter  to  converse  with  him  upon, 

*  The  Bishop’s  distribution  of  it,  according  to  the  laws  of  hebrew  paral¬ 
lelism :  See  Sacred  Literature,  Sect,  xxiii.  p.  429.  .  .  Ed. 


395 


it  being  peculiarly  suitable  to  him ;  he  having 
both  taste,  and  critical  acumen  :  he  was  greatly 
pleased,  and  wondered  it  should  not  have  been 
discovered  before.  I  recommend  to  you  to  read 
particularly,  Lowth’s  4th,  18th,  19th,  and  20th 
prelections ;  as  I  conceive  they  contain  many 
observations,  strictly  applicable  to  the  sermon  on 
the  mount :  as  to  the  reality  of  the  poetical  charac¬ 
ter  in  this,  even  the  following  words,  alone,  appear 
to  me  conclusive  : .  . 

Yoco  Didacticum,  versibus  eleganter  et  acute 
concinnatis  prsecepta  includens,  et  comparationibus, 
sive  apertis  sive  occultis,  saspe  illustratum. 

Sententiosum  .  .  dicendi  genus  primum  statuo 
Hebraeorum  styli  poetici  charactera,  ut  qui  om¬ 
nium  maxime  est  insignis  et  latissime  patet.  Sunt 
etiam  nonnulla ,  neque  ea  sane  inelegantia  Poemata, 
quae  nihil  fere  aliud  habent  poeticum  prseter  numeros 
(what  these  are,  or  whether  they  are  any  thing,  he 
pretends  not  to  say)  atque  earn  ex  qua  ipsa  nume- 
rorum  suavitas  magna  ex  parte  constat,  sententiarum 
concinnitatem.  .  .  Prael.  iv. 

This  last  observation,  which  is  self-evidently  just, 
settles  the  point  respecting  the  sermon  on  the 
mount. 

Observe,  that  our  Saviour  himself  describes  his 
own  method  of  teaching  to  have  been,  sv  7roipoi^ioLig. 

Lowth  has  opened  the  way,  much  rather  than 
exhausted  the  work  :  as  an  instance  of  his  omission, 
I  would  point  out,  his  dwelling,  wholly  on  the 
short  sentences  in  the  Proverbs;  and  not  giving  so 
much  as  one  instance  of  that  longer  species  of 
proverb,  which  is  so  very  beautiful ;  and  which 
occurs,  for  example,  at  the  end  of  two  successive 
chapters,  the  23d  and  24th.  I 


396 


-  is  in  the  drawing-room  waiting  for  me ; 

therefore,  for  the  present  adieu. 

Most  faithfully  and  cordially  yours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  LXIII. 

To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 

Cashel,  Jan.  25.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  cannot  but  make  an  effort  to  thank  you  for  your 
letters  ;  and  for  your  thoughtfulness  in  sending  me 
the  magazines,  into  which  I  have  not  yet  had  time 
to  look.  Ever  since  you  left  this,  I  have  been  close 
prisoner  to  the  house.  I  ventured  too  far,  in  going 
to  church,  and  felt  the  effects  of  so  doing ;  but  I 
am  getting  better.  What  I  most  regret  is,  the  loss 
of  the  Archbishop’s  society.  Kind  and  excellent 
man !  He  sent  me  as  a  present  his  Biographical 
Dictionary,  in  fifteen  volumes ;  and  with  it  a  note, 
which  makes  the  present  such  an  one,  as  will 
gladden  me  as  long  as  I  live.  You  shall  see  it  when 
we  meet,  always  with  the  reserve  of  the  providential 
proviso. 

I  rejoice  that  your  journey  was  so  prosperous,  and 
the  after  effects  of  so  very  mild  a  nature.  I  rejoice, 
not  only  for  you  and  your  friends,  but  for  Cashel ; 
for  may  we  not  hope,  now  the  communication 
to  and  fro  is  so  pleasantly  open,  that  your  visits 
will  be  frequent ;  annual,  at  least. 

I  thank  you  for  your  references,  to  which  I  will 


397 


attend.  Just  at  present,  as  the  Psalms  are  a  more 
immediate  object  with  me  than  the  sermon  on  the 
mount,  I  have  been  engaged  more  with  the  lyric, 
than  the  sententious  poetry,  of  the  Hebrews  :  with 
this  view,  I  have  attempted  a  translation  and  ar¬ 
rangement  of  Moses’  song,  which  I  enclose  for 
your  perusal.  It  is  doubtless  faulty,  in  the  detail ; 
but  I  could  be  glad  to  have  your  opinion  of  the 
disposition,  as  a  whole  ;  and,  especially,  of  the  dis¬ 
tribution  among  different  interlocutors.  When  the 
language  of  my  version  may  appear  most  poetical, 
it  is  most  literal  :  e.  g.  ‘  I  will  whet  the  lightning  of 
my  sword.’  There  are  two  or  three  line  instances  of 
the  alternate  stanza.  In  the  last  of  them,  the  beauty 
is  entirely  destroyed,  by  the  version  in  common  use. 
My  rendering  there,  £  From  the  naked  head  of  the 
enemy,’  is  strictly  literal. 

I  am  more  and  more  adverse  to  pursuing  the 
latin  version  any  further.  In  order  to  give  the 
spirit  and  manner  of  the  hebrew,  it  must  be  so 
solecistical  and  unclassical,  that  it  would  shock 
readers  of  taste ;  especially  those,  who  have  been 
well  instructed  at  great  public  schools.  This  may 
be,  in  some  measure,  avoided,  by  a  person  who 
unites,  with  a  relish  for  hebrew  poetry,  a  true 
classical  taste,  and  a  profound  acquaintance  with  the 
best  latin  authors ;  as  did  Bishop  Lowth.  But, 
even  here,  in  order  to  be  classical,  somewhat  must 
be  detracted  from  the  primitive  air.  I,  therefore, 
feel  disposed  to  stick  to  the  language  I  am  best 
acquainted  with  ;  and  hope,  that,  by  some  pains, 
and  by  diligent  application  to  hebrew,  and  to  the 
most  approved  biblical  critics,  I  may  be  enabled  to 
give  the  Psalms  in  a  better  english  dress,  than  they 
at  present  appear  in. 


398 


I  perfectly  agree  with  you,  that  a  wide  field  re¬ 
mains  unexplored,  especially  in  the  department  of 
the  sententious  poetry.  Lowth’s  taste  confined  him, 
for  the  most  part,  to  the  sublimer  order;  to  the 
ode,  the  elegy,  the  idyllium,  &c.  If  he  had  pos¬ 
sessed  more  philosophy,  he  would  have  penetrated 
deeper  into  the  nature,  the  uses,  and  the  elegance 
of  the  sententious.  I  look  to  deriving  much  light, 
from  a  close  inspection  of  the  continuous  proverb, 
as  exhibited  in  the  instances  you  refer  to,  as  well 
as  in  many  of  the  other  parts  of  the  Old  Testament. 
These  contain,  assuredly,  the  rough  draft,  of  what 
was  brought  to  its  utmost  perfection,  in  the  sermon 
on  the  mount.  And  I  conceive,  it  will  be  easy  to 
show,  that  a  happier,  and  more  appropriate  vehicle 
for  deep  philosophy,  could  not  have  been  imagined. 

I  purpose  giving  deep  attention  to  the  lectures 
of  Lowth,  whicli  you  recommend.  Your  extracts 
abundantly  establish  the  poetical  character  of  the 
sermon  on  the  mount ;  and  I  am  right  glad  that 
there  is  such  testimony,  also,  as  Stopford  and  Major 

- .  The  opposite  characters  of  the  witnesses,  is 

surely  corroborative. 

The  Archbishop  has  just  called ;  and  sat  with  me 
for  an  hour.  To  be  sure,  it  is  impossible  not  to 
love  him.  £  Nemo  ilium  venerabilem,  qui  non  simul 
amabilem  diceret.’  I  have  reversed  Seneca’s  epi¬ 
thets  ;  but  I  am  sure,  in  this  instance,  I  have  made 
him  speak  truth.  Our  invaluable  friend,  is  more 
and  more  impressed  with  the  hebrew  poetry.  He 
agrees  in  thinking  it  my  duty  to  study  the  language ; 
and  will  do  the  same  himself.  One  thing  he  has 
suggested,  which  I  will  leave  it  to  your  judgment  to 
pronounce  upon ;  namely,  that,  till  something  is  in 
a  mature,  and  producible  state,  it  may  be  well  not 


399 


to  say  much  of  this  matter ;  lest  the  idea  should  be 
caught,  and  clumsily,  or  imperfectly,  put  forward, 
so  as  to  throw  discredit  on  the  whole  system.  I 
own,  had  this  been  sooner  suggested,  I  should  be 

more  cautious  how  I  write  to - .  To  him,  I 

spoke  about  the  psalms,  and  the  psalms  only  ;  add¬ 
ing,  however,  that  Bishop  Lowth  had  not  pursued 
his  own  system  far  enough  ;  that  his  synonymous 
parallelisms  are,  in  fact,  climacterical ;  and  that  there 
is  a  more  regular  distribution  into  stanza,  than  he 
is  aware  of.  I  gave,  as  specimens,  the  two  stanzas 
from  Isaiah  xxvii.,  and  that  from  Psalm  Ixxxiv. 
Not  a  word  did  I  say  of  the  sermon  on  the  mount. 

Yours  most  faithfully  and  affectionately, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  53. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb. 


Jan.  27.  1803. 

Mr  dear  Friend, 

J  thank  you  much  for  your  letter,  and  as  much  for 
the  valuable  and  interesting  enclosure.  In  its  present 
state,  I  will  not  consider  it  as  more  than  the  first 
draft;  and  viewing  it  so,  I  am  deeply  pleased  with 
it.  But  its  effect  on  myself  is  as  nothing,  compared 
with  what  I  have  this  moment  been  observing,  in  my 
sensible  and  tasteful  friend,  Miss  Fergusson.  Imme¬ 
diately  after  dinner,  I  put  it  into  her  hands;  and  I 
assure  you,  she  was  delighted  almost  to  ecstasy  :  she 
positively  wiped  her  eyes,  to  enable  her  to  read  it. 


400 


In  fact,  it  was  most  gratifying  to  mark  the  impres¬ 
sion  thus  made  by  it,  on  a  plain,  right,  strong,  unso¬ 
phisticated  mind.  It  is  much  above  the  test  afforded 
by  Moliere’s  old  woman. 

As  to  what  you  say  of  latin  and  english,  I  sub¬ 
scribe  with  both  my  hands.  I  acquiesce  in  it  sym¬ 
pathetically  ;  nothing  can  be  more  true.  I  also 
cordially  approve  of  your  giving  yourself,  in  the  first 
instance,  to  the  Psalms.  I  consider  them,  as  the 
most  important  part  of  the  Old  Testament;  because 
they  so  prevalently  refer  to  the  interior ;  and  also,  be¬ 
cause  they  are  so  exquisitely  fitted  to  catch  the  mind 
of  youth.  This  last  remark  was  made  to  me,  within 
this  hour,  by  Miss  F.  ;  but  I  feel  it  to  be  the  fact, 
from  thorough  experience. 

As  to  the  Archbishop’s  idea,  much  as  I  respect 
every  thing  that  comes  from  him,  I  do  not  accede  to 
it,  on  the  one  hand,  nor  wholly  dissent  from  it,  on 
the  other.  Caution  is  good  in  every  way ;  but,  in 
this  particular,  scrupulous  caution  is  needless.  I 
should  think  it  right  to  be  cautious,  even  to  scrupu¬ 
losity,  in  speaking  of  some  things  which  occur  to  my 
mind,  because  they  require  ripeness  of  mind  to  re¬ 
ceive  them.  But  your  ideas  of  hebrew  poetry  are 
open  to  investigation  ;  and  the  more  they  are  investi¬ 
gated,  they  will  be  the  more  approved  of.  I  should 
not  speak  thus,  if  I  thought  the  subject,  in  any  ma¬ 
terial  part,  admitted  of  a  shadow  of  doubt ;  but  it  does 
not :  evidently  for  this  reason  ;  those  who  have  ex¬ 
plored  it  before  you,  go  all  your  length  in  principle  ; 
but  they  do  not  follow  up  their  own  principles,  in 
practice.  This  last  is  so  much  the  case,  that  I  won¬ 
der  at  it :  for  instance,  Lowth  says,  in  his  23d  Prael., 
speaking  of  elegiac  verse,  ‘  Tales  versus  ’  (that  is,  such 
as  are  in  the  first  four  chapters  of  the  Lamentations) 


401 


‘  sunt,  in  toto  psalmo,  undeviginti ;  extra  sttco^v  quae 
du obis  ejusmodi  versibus  longiusculis  constat,  et 
uno  insuper  breviori,  quaeque  bis  ponitur.’  Now  it 
seems  plain  to  me,  that  there  are  in  that  Psalm,  first, 
four  couplets  of  the  constructive  kind,  though,  per¬ 
haps,  not  wholly  so  :  then  two  triplets  ;  then,  I  con¬ 
ceive,  and  not  before,  four  elegiac  couplets,  or  eight 
elegiac  verses,  implying  however,  a  couplet  relation 
among  themselves,  but  proceeding  by  pairs  ;  then,  a 
connecting  verse  (the  11th),  in  which  something  of 
the  length  of  the  elegiac,  and  something  of  the  brevity 
of  the  common  couplet,  mingling  together  ;  the  next, 
is  a  pure  couplet,  like  those  at  the  commencement; 
then,  as  I  take  it  (verse  13th),  a  very  beautiful  qua¬ 
train  :  and  then,  a  concluding  triplet.  I  have  not 
your  copy  to  refer  to  ;  but  I  should  suppose  it  does 
not  much  differ  from  what  I  have  just  laid  down ; 
and,  if  we  are  right,  the  Bishop  is  wrong. 

I  have  sincere  pleasure  in  mentioning,  for  I  am 
more  solicitous  that  we  should  be  right ,  than  that 
we  should  be  original ,  that  we  are  not  the  first  dis¬ 
coverers  of  the  climax.  However  it  may  have  escaped 
Lowth,  it  was  not  overlooked  by  a  less  ingenious 
man,  Primate  Newcome,  in  his  preliminary  discourse 
to  his  translation  of  Ezekiel.  When  he  is  proceeding 
to  give  specimens  of  the  various  parallelisms,  he  says, 
‘  This  subject  is  largely  and  ably  discussed,  in  Bishop 
Lowth’ s  excellent  treatise  on  the  hebrew  poetry  ; 
and  in  the  very  instructive  dissertation,  prefixed  to 
his  comment  on  Isaiah.  From  the  various  examples 
of  ornament  and  elegance,  which  might  be  produced, 
I  shall  select  a  very  few,  and  those,  of  that  particular 
class,  where  the  following  clauses  so  diversify  the  pre¬ 
ceding  ones ,  as  to  rise  above  them* 

Now,  my  friend,  do  you  not  feel  it  of  great  mo- 

VOL.  I.  D  D 


402 


ment,  that  this  fact  should  have  been  felt  and  recog¬ 
nized,  by  such  a  genius  as  Primate  Newcome  ?  it  is 
no  fajicy,  when  it  struck  him  as  a  fact .  I  surely 
know  no  one,  except  Jean  Le  Clerc  himself,  whose 
testimony  I  should  so  value,  in  such  a  matter ;  and 
Primate  Newcome,  is  to  us  both,  better  far  than  J. 
Le  Clerc,  or  any  one  we  could  think  of. 

The  hour  presses,  otherwise  I  might  call  your  ob¬ 
servation  to  part  of  the  Psalm  just  referred  to  ;  and 
beg  you  to  consider,  whether,  ‘  converting  the  soul  ’ 
is  not,  7 rveupa  or  apsrr),  and  ‘  making  wise  the  simple  ’ 
(( ro<pi£ou(rcc  vr)7ria,  the  lxx.)is  not  and  similarly, 

in  the  next  verse,  whether  eutppouvovrot  xotfiiav,  and 
(pcort^oiKToc  ocpOaXpLove,  do  not  come  under  the  same 
rule  ? 

I  wished  to  add  something  about  the  13th  verse, 
which  I  take  to  be  an  alternate  quatrain  ;  but  I  have 
not,  perhaps,  many  moments  to  make  free  with.  I 
only  say,  therefore,  compare  ‘presumptuous,’  in  the 
iirst  number,  with  ‘  upright,’  in  the  third  ;  and  have 
‘  dominion  over  me,’  in  the  second,  with  ‘  innocent 
from  the  great  transgression,’  in  the  last. 

Ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  54. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jehh. 

Dawson  St.,  Jan.  30.  18 OS. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Knowing  as  I  do  that  you  like  to  hear  from  me, 
let  me  say  little  or  much,  I  will  talk  to  you  this  af- 


403 


ternoon.  I  wished  to  give  you  some  more  particular 
remarks,  on  your  song  of  Moses  ;  but  I  have  not 
been  able,  from  avocations  that  I  could  not  ward  off. 

One  of  these  was  a  pleasant  business :  yesterday 
evening,  I  was  at  Stopford’s ;  and  to-day  Mrs.  S. 
has  told  me,  that  he  was  highly  pleased,  and  said 
that  he  had  never  spent  so  completely  comfortable  an 
evening  with  me.  Our  chief  talk  was  about  he- 
brew  poetry.  He  takes  to  our  idea  astonishingly ; 
and  says,  ‘  How  wonderful  is  it,  that  this  thing  should 
be  just  now  coming  out,  after  having  so  long  lain 
concealed.’ 

I  would  say  something  about  the  Song  of  Moses, 
were  it  not  that  I  have  gone  through  it  in  part  only, 
in  the  manner  I  wish  to  do  ;  I  shall,  therefore,  make 
it  the  subject  of  a  distinct  and  future  letter. 

Since  I  came  to  town,  I  have  been  looking  into 
Street’s  version  of  the  Psalms,  which  I  happen  to 
have ;  and  I  clearly  see,  that  if  his  work  be  the  best 
of  the  kind,  which  probably  it  is,  much  is  left  for 
others  to  do :  as  to  the  stanzas,  he  knows  nothing 
about  them ;  and  these  I  conceive  to  be  essential,  to 
any  perfect  rendering,  of  any  Hebrew  poem.  For 
what  are  those  stanzas,  but  the  various  shapes  of  va¬ 
rious  voYjfjLara,?  Consequently,  that  graceful  preci¬ 
sion,  (two  words  which  could  seldom  be  fairly  put 
together,)  which  forms  the  chief  charm  of  the  sacra 
poesis,  cannot  be  made  apparent,  if  the  stanzas  are 
overlooked. 

i 

My  looking  into  Street,  confirms  me  in  an  idea  I 
threw  out  to  you  ;  that,  to  do  justice  to  the  spirit  of 
the  Old  Testament  poetry,  our  own  aboriginal  words 
are  to  be  preferred,  to  any  imported  from  greek,  or 
latin  dialects.  For  example,  does  he  gain  any 
thing  in  the  10th  and  21st  verses  of  the  119th  Psalm, 

d  d  2 


404 


by  using  the  word  deviate  ?  Is  not  the  wander , 
and  the  err ,  of  our  bible  translation,  a  great  deal 
more  suitable  ?  There  is  an  additional  reason  for  at¬ 
tending  to  this :  that  the  quantity  of  our  aboriginal 
words,  and  those  of  the  original  text  of  the  Old  Testa¬ 
ment,  are  more  likely  to  agree :  quantity ,  I  mean, 
in  a  plain,  not  technical  sense ;  for  the  length,  not 
the  accentuation  of  words. 

I  wish  you  to  look  at  the  third  chapter  of  the 
Lamentations  of  Jeremiah,  and  observe,  whether 
sameness  of  idea  does  not,  in  the  general,  accompany 
sameness  of  letter?  It  is  certainly  not  alike  strict, 
throughout  that  chapter  of  sixty-six  verses;  but  I 
think  you  will  find  it  so  obviously  prevalent,  as  to  put 
the  intention  beyond  doubt ;  and  perhaps,  to  excite  a 
doubt,  whether,  where  it  does  not  appear,  the  over¬ 
sight  of  transcribers,  or  error  of  translators,  may  not 
be,  most  probably,  in  fault  But,  if  the  fact  I  speak 
of  be  made  out  in  substance,  it  is  a  great  point 
gained  ;  for  these  alphabetical  pieces  of  poetry,  are 
our  strong-hold.  They  put  the  general  principles  of 
the  system  beyond  doubt;  and  what  they  give  wit¬ 
ness  to,  respecting  precision  and  regularity,  can 
scarcely  be  disputed,  because  of  the  regularity  of 
their  own  character.  I  think  you  will  see  there  is 
ground  for  those  remarks,  when  you  consider  the 
chapter  referred  to. 

I  own  I  have  a  doubt  whether  Lowth  may  be 
right,  in  the  view  he  has  given  of  the  elegiac  verses 
of  the  Hebrews.  I  mean,  whether  what  he  takes  to 
be  a  lengthened  verse,  is  not  rather  a  couplet,  with 
the  second  member  much  shorter  than  the  first ;  and 
of  consequence  whether 

Diffugere  nives  redeunt  jam  gramina  campis, 

Arboribusque  comae, 


4 


405 


be  not  as  near  a  likeness,  as  any  other  we  could  pitch 
upon.  I  see  there  is  a  variety,  even  in  that  most 
distinctly  marked  chapter  ;  but  I  do  not  see,  that  it 
actually  contradicts  the  idea  I  am  now  giving  ;  for 
I  conceive  it  is  evident,  that  a  bimembral  character 
prevails,  throughout  the  majority  of  the  verses. 

For  example, 

4.  My  flesh  and  my  skin  hath  he  made  old, 

He  hath  broken  my  bones  ; 

5.  He  hath  builded  against  me, 

And  compassed  with  gall  and  travail. 

6.  He  hath  set  me  in  dark  places, 

As  the  dead  of  old  : 

7-  He  hath  hedged  me  about,  that  I  cannot  get  out ; 

He  hath  made  my  chain  heavy. 

8.  And,  when  I  cry  and  shout, 

He  shutteth  out  my  prayer ; 

9.  He  hath  enclosed  my  ways  with  hewn  stone, 

He  hath  made  my  paths  crooked. 

I  like  this  the  better,  for  this  reason,  because  real 
grief  is  abrupt,  rather  than  long-winded  ;  and  I  doubt, 
too,  whether,  when  this,  or  some  similar  measure, 
is  used  didactically,  the  same  disposition  would  not 
be  an  improvement,  as  giving  relief  to  the  struc¬ 
ture  ;  for  instance. 

The  law  of  Jehovah  is  perfect, 

Converting  the  soul ; 

The  testimony  of  Jehovah  is  sure, 

Making  wise  the  simple. 

Lest  I  should  be  too  late,  I  must  only  add,  that  I  am 

Ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


D  D  3 


406 


LETTER  55. 

To  the  Rev.  J.  Jebb. 


Bellevue,  April  II.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Your  acceptable  letter  reached  me  on  Saturday,  in 
the  midst  of  my  movements ;  I  could,  therefore,  do 
nothing  but  read  the  mere  letter  *,  and  put  the  papers 
in  my  pocket.  I  have  since  read  the  letter  with 
care ;  and  I  think  it  is  exactly  what  I  formed  the 
idea  of,  when  we  last  talked  it  over.  There  is, 
therefore,  one  passage  only,  about  which  I  am  yet  in 
doubt.  It  is,  ‘  Few  of  our  profession,  I  willingly  con¬ 
cede,  are  called  to  this  high  and  holy  department ; 
but  they,  &cf  Now,  I  own  I  have  my  apprehen¬ 
sions,  lest  this  should  be  misunderstood,  partly  as  a  fa¬ 
natical,  and  partly  as  an  arrogant  idea :  we  well  know, 
it  is  sound  sense,  and  simple  truth ;  but  we  know  its 
bearing,  in  value  of  various  praecognita,  with  which 
many,  into  whose  hands  it  may  fall,  are  wholly  un¬ 
furnished-  I  think  something  like  this  might  be 
substituted  :  . .  ‘  Those  of  our  profession,  who  know 
nothing  of  this  high  and  holy  department,  will  conse¬ 
quently  feel  no  need  of  that  strictness,  which  essen. 
tially  belongs  to  it ;  and  their  taking  such  liberties, 
may,  possibly,  not  make  themselves  any  worse  ;  nor, 
are  any  objects  they  pursue,  likely  to  be  marred  by 
it;  but  they,  &c.’  I  give  you  the  hint,  to  turn  in 
your  mind  ;  and  think  it  best  to  postpone  putting  the 

*  The  Bishop’s  ‘  Letter  to  a  young  Clergyman,  on  the  Subject  of  Amuse¬ 
ments.’  .  Ed.  \ 


407 


manuscript  into  the  printer’s  hands,  until  I  have  your 
reply.  Campbell  is  so  expeditious,  that  it  would 
answer  no  end  to  give  it  to  him,  until  he  can  pursue 
it  to  the  end. 

I  greatly  rejoice  in  all  you  tell  me  about — — .  I 
did  not  like  the  composition,  nor  arrangement,  of  the 
lecture  on  friday :  but  other  persons  were  very  well 
satisfied,  and  that  set  me  at  rest.  There  was  not, 
so  far  as  I  recollect,  any  thing  we  could  except 
against,  as  to  matter  ;  and  there  were  favourite  points 
of  ours,  put  forth  boldly,  but  I  should  think,  to  his 
hearers,  very  obscurely.  However,  what  could  we 
have  in  reason  expected,  beyond  what  has  taken 
place  ?  and  then,  the  prospect  of  what  twelve  months 
may  effect  in  his  mental  habits,  is  as  cheering  as  any 
thing  of  the  kind  can  be. 

All  you  say  of  your  conversations  with  — — ,  I  cor¬ 
dially  adopt ;  with  this  difference,  that,  what  you 
describe,  as  the  effect  of  being  more  on  a  level  of 
mind  with  — — -,  I  would  resolve  into  a  simpler,  and 
surer  fact :  ‘  In  the  mouth  of  two  witnesses,  shall 
every  word  be  established.’  What  one,  only,  talks 
about,  may  be  delusion ;  however  respectable  his 
mental  pretensions  may  be,  in  other  instances :  but 
when  another  clear,  strong-minded  person,  comes 
forward,  and  gives  the  same  view  of  things,  a  differ¬ 
ence  of  feeling  will  take  place  in  a  candid  mind,  from 
the  agreement  of  both,  which  no  individual  explan¬ 
ations,  or  assurances,  could  have  produced.  Such,  I 
take  it,  along  with  a  happy  opportuneness  of  circum¬ 
stances,  has  been  the  case  between  you  and - ; 

and  I  must  add  to  this,  that  in  your  hands,  the  matter 
in  question  might  bear  a  soberer  aspect,  than  in 
mine.  I  become  effervescent,  while  you  remain 
equable  $  I  am,  therefore,  often  declamatory,  while 

d  d  4 


408 


you  are  always  logical ;  I  can  only  say,  on  the  whole, 
that  I  am  the  better  satisfied  with  what  God  has 
given  me,  when  I  see  that,  which  possibly  I  could  not 
have,  consistently  with  the  whole  of  my  destination, 
or  of  my  nature,  so  wonderfully  and  happily  supplied, 
by  the  apt  arrangement  of  pure  Providence.  I  re¬ 
member  John  Wesley  remarking  in  his  journal,  on 
Mr.  Fletcher’s  coming  opportunely  to  aid  him  at  the 
sacrament,  Mr.  F.  having,  just  the  minute  or  two 
before,  come  from  the  church  where  he  had  been 
priested  :  ‘  When  my  strength  was  nearly  exhausted, 
how  astonishingly  has  God  sent  me  help  ;  and  such 
help,  from  the  mountains  of  Swisserland  ! 9  Little  did 
Mr.  W.  then  know,  what  an  eventual  help  he,  and 
the  truth  he  maintained,  and  was  appointed  to  trans¬ 
mit,  should  receive  from  this  mysteriously  far-fetched 
auxiliary.  And  now,  I  cannot  but  feel  a  thought 
rising,  about  ends  of  Providence,  respecting  which,  I 
certainly  would  not  dare  to  make  distinct  calcula¬ 
tions  ;  but  toward  which,  my  imagination  turns  in¬ 
stinctively,  though,  I  hope,  humbly  and  modestly.* 
By  the  way,  finding  but  one  set  of  Fletcher’s  works 
at  White  Friar’s,  I  desired  it  to  be  set  apart  for  you  ; 
being  fully  confident  you  ought  to  have  them. 

Yours  ever, 

A.  K. 


*  Mr.  Knox  seems  here  to  allude  to  his  similar  connection  with  his  friend, 
so  early  and  unexpectedly  brought  in  his  way,  at  Derry.  .  .  Ed. 


409 


LETTER  LXIV. 

To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 

Glebe  House,  Loughbrickland, 
April  12.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  cannot  let  the  mail  coach  pass,  as  it  will  in  a  few 
hours,  without  conveying  my  thanks,  for  your  prompt 
and  pleasant  letter ;  and  for  your  judicious  observ¬ 
ations,  on  that  passage  of  the  MS.  It  is  curious,  that 
precisely  the  same  apprehension  of  probable  miscon¬ 
ception  arose  in  my  mind.  I  suppressed  it,  however, 
partly  because  you  had  dropped  no  such  hint,  but  es¬ 
pecially,  because  I  knew,  if  the  paragraph  were  really 
questionable,  you  would  not  let  it  pass,  in  your  final 
revision.  The  suggestion,  then,  is  no  more  than  I 
am  prepared  for ;  and  it  gratifies  me,  as  affording 
another  of  those  clearly  independent  coincidences, 
which  I  rejoice  to  discover,  between  your  judgment, 
and  my  own.  Your  alteration,  I  feel  disposed  fully 
to  adopt,  in  sense  and  spirit ;  and  so,  I  should,  in 
words  too,  did  I  not  feel  the  necessity  of  making 
the  passage  square  with  my  cubical  mode  of  compo¬ 
sition.  The  following  substitution,  you  will  have  the 
goodness  to  modify  as  you  please,  and  then  interline 
it,  as  amended  in  the  MS.  ‘But  they,  &c.’ 

I  should  be  glad  to  know,  whether  you  received 
my  note  about  the  poor  woman ;  and  whether  you 
have  been  able  to  take  any  step  in  her  favour.  I 
find  that  I  miscalculated  as  to  time  ;  and  must 
close  in  order  to  catch  the  post.  You  will  (not,  of 
course,  but  as  you  know  it  is  felt,  and  can,  therefore, 


410 


conscientiously  undertake  the  commission,)  be  pleased 
to  present  my  affectionate  compliments,  to  Mr.  and 

Mrs.  L - .  Though  I  suppose  you  are  at  B - , 

I  direct  for  the  better  security  to  Dublin.  I  hope  to 
be  there  in  time  for  the  clerical*,  and,  of  course,  for 

D - ’s  penitentiary  sermon  ;  which,  as  an  honorary 

governor,  I  feel  myself  bound  to  attend. 

Yours  most  faithfully, 

John  Jebb. 


Carrick  on  Suir,  Thurs.  8^  o’clock  P.  M.  1 808. 

My  dear  Mr.  Knox, 

About  an  hour  ago,  I  arrived  here,  after  having 
been  again  nearly  baffled  at  Waterford  ;  not  a  post 
carriage  was  to  be  had  there,  till,  at  length,  after 
three  hours’  delay,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  procure 
a  return  chaise  from  this  place.  Of  course,  I  cannot 
reach  Cashel,  in  time  for  to-morrow’s  catechizing ; 
for,  though  I  might,  possibly,  make  a  forced  march, 
by  rising  at  four  o’clock  in  the  morning  ;  this  would 
be  too  hazardous  an  attempt,  in  the  present  state  of 
my  health. 

I  was  employing  myself  on  the  road,  in  retracing 
the  delight  and  instruction  I  derived,  from  your  con¬ 
versation,  during  the  last  ten  weeks  :  and,  though  I 
could  not  but  feel  some  unpleasant  drawbacks,  from 
my  own  mental,  and  bodily  indispositions,  the  retro¬ 
spect,  on  the  whole,  was  satisfactory  and  cheerful. 
Whatever  partial  obscurations  my  views  have  under¬ 
gone,  I  feel  a  sober  conviction,  that  they  are  more 
clear  and  vivid,  than  before  your  visit  to  Cashel.  I 
have  had  an  experimental  proof,  that  views  of  no 

A  meeting  of  clerical  friends  in  Dublin,  elsewhere  alluded  to  in  the  corre¬ 
spondence.  .  .  Ed. 


411 


other  nature,  would  suit  the  turn  of  my  mind  and 
dispositions.  Calvinism,  I  believe,  would  make  me 
mad ;  and  any  doing  system,  would  be  altogether 
inadequate,  to  cure  my  moral  and  intellectual  mala¬ 
dies.  However  trying  the  discipline  was,  I  rejoice 
in  the  doubts  and  difficulties  of  the  last  three  days. 
They  have  discovered,  what  I  had  before  an  inade¬ 
quate  conception  of, .  .  the  weakness  of  my  mental 
powers ;  and  clear  I  am,  that  the  discovery  of  weak¬ 
ness  is  an  indispensable  pre-requisite,  towards  attain¬ 
ing  the  wisdom  from  above.  My  only  fear  is,  that  I 
annoyed  you,  (not  personally,  but  through  the  kind 
interest  you  take  in  me,)  by  wrongnesses  of  manner 
and  expression  :  for  such  errors,  I  know  I  have  your 
pardon ;  and,  on  reflection,  it  is  not  amiss,  that  you 
should  be  in  tolerable  possession  of  my  failings ;  in 
order,  that,  like  a  wise  physician,  you  may  prescribe 
such  alteratives,  as  may  produce  a  good  effect,  in 
subserving  to  what  I  am  convinced  is  the  grand  al¬ 
terative,  heart  devotion  :  prayer,  is,  undoubtedly,  the 
life  and  soul  of  spirituality.  I  cannot  now  recall 
particular  passages  of  scripture  on  the  point,  being 
rather  fatigued  ;  but  I  can  safely  say,  that  so  many 
presented  themselves  to  my  mind  to-day,  as  to  give 
an  impression,  that  the  whole  scope  and  tenor  of 
both  Testaments,  is  in  your  favour  ;  while  all  that  is 
solidly  practical,  is  effectually  secured,  by  the  ‘  Quis 
legem  dat  amantibus?’ 

Mr. - ’s  letter  is  altogether  an  unique  :  there  is, 

however,  sincerity  in  it ;  and  a  simplicity,  bordering 
on  weakness.  How  happily  is  it  ordered,  that  reli¬ 
gion  should  not  primarily  reside,  in  the  intellect, 
and  reasoning  faculties :  if  things  were  so,  what 
would  become  of  weak,  well-meaning,  pious  people, 
like  Mr.  — — . 


412 


I  thought  to-day  about  the  ten  virgins  :  if  I  am 
well,  on  my  return,  I  have  hopes  of  making  an  inter¬ 
esting,  and  instructive  discourse,  for  Sunday.  If  it 
pleases  God  that  I  should  be  otherwise,  then  I 
will  only  do  my  best,  in  the  way  of  modified  trans¬ 
cription. 

Remember  me,  most  kindly  and  affectionately,  to 
the  good,  and  truly  amiable  family  you  are  with.  I 
cannot  easily  forget  their  kindness  ;  and  metaphysics 
being  excluded,  I  should  be  very  happy  in  becoming 
their  debtor  for  more  kindnesses.  I  believe  you  may 
trust  me ;  for,  assuredly,  I  have  received  a  clinical  and 
anatomical  lecture,  on  my  own  case,  by  which,  I 
trust,  I  shall  ultimately  profit.  My  eyes  are  becoming 
heavy,  and  lest  I  should  fall  into  a  trick,  which,  you 
know,  I  am  sometimes  prone  to, . .  writing  nonsense, 
I  must  conclude  myself, 

My  dear  Sir, 

Your  most  obliged  and  affectionate  Friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  LXV. 
To  A.  Knox,  Esq . 


Cashel,  June  1.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  cannot  let  this  large  packet  go  to  you,  unaccom¬ 
panied  by  a  few  lines  ;  though  from  a  rheumatico- 
bilious  attack,  I  feel  unable  to  write  as  I  could  wish, 
either  in  matter,  manner,  or  length. 

My  journey  was  safe,  but  not  prosperous  :  bad 


413 


roads,  and  worse  carriages,  detained  me  ;  so  that  I 
was  obliged  to  sleep  a  second  night  on  the  road.  On 
reaching  Cashel,  however,  I  felt  myself  quite  indem¬ 
nified,  by  finding  my  friends  well ;  and  by  being 
cordially  received ;  and  by  learning,  that  all  matters 
are  in  good  train :  and  especially,  by  perceiving,  that 
home  was  not  irksome,  even  after  the  matchless 
scenes,  and  the  beloved  friends,  I  had  left  behind. 
My  first  employment  has  been,  to  transcribe  for  Mrs. 

L - ,  the  sermon  which  she  began  to  copy ;  in 

which,  you  will  perceive,  that  I  have  paid  some  at¬ 
tention  to  your  suggested  alterations.  To  it,  I  have 
added  the  next  sermon,  as  a  suitable  accompaniment; 
and  I  shall  be  much  obliged  by  your  conveying 
them,  together  with  the  enclosed  note. 

I  have  had  yet  no  opportunity  of  judging,  whether 
I  am  improved  by  my  absence.  All  that  I  can  pre¬ 
dicate  of  myself,  is,  that  I  am  enabled  to  bear  up  with 
tolerable  complacency,  under  a  debilitating,  and  inca¬ 
pacitating  frame  of  body ;  and,  that  I  feel  an  earnest 
desire,  when  it  shall  please  God  to  remove  the  in¬ 
ability,  to  be  employed  in  his  service. 

I  can,  at  present,  only  promise  to  write  a  letter, 
when  in  a  better  frame  of  body.  Meantime,  a  few 
lines  from  you  would  rejoice 

Your  most  obliged, 

and  affectionate  Friend, 

John  Jebb. 


414 


LETTER  56. 


To  the  Rev .  J.  Jehb. 


-  Dublin,  June  6.  1808.  Whitsun- Monday. 

My  dear  Friend, 

On  coming  to  town  this  day,  I  received  yours ;  and 
it  relieved  me  from  anxiety.  I  was  afraid  you  were 
unwell.  I  find  I  was  not  altogether  wrong;  but  I 
am  happy  to  find,  that  it  is  only  such  an  indispos¬ 
ition,  as  the  state  of  the  weather  is  sufficient  to  ex¬ 
plain.  Since  I  arrived,  I  saw  Mrs.  L - ,  and  handed 

her  your  note,  and  its  accompaniment.  She  desired 
me  to  assure  you  of  her  gratitude ;  and  I  feel  myself 
more  safe  in  doing  so,  than  most  persons  are  in  a 
diplomatique  trust. 

I  sympathize  with  you  in  the  kindly  feelings,  that 
your  meeting  with  your  Cashel  friends  has  excited ; 

and  I  beg  to  be  remembered  to  Messrs. -  and 

- ,  with  sincere  cordiality.  I  do  hope  and  trust, 

you  will  be  more  and  more  happy ;  and,  conse¬ 
quently,  be  fitted  to  lead  others  to  happiness.  In 
fact,  I  am  as  sure  of  it,  as  a  creature  conscious  of 
shortsightedness  of  mind  (far  beyond  the  same 
creature’s  bodily  shortsightedness)  can  be. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  a  letter  from  the  invaluable 
Archbishop,  the  same  time  with  yours ;  who  says, 
‘  Remember  me  to  Jebb,  to  whom  I  have  behaved 
with  shameful  neglect,  though  not,  in  reality,  so  ill, 
as  it  must  appear  to  him  ;  for  I  executed  his  com¬ 
mission,  and  sent  the  books  to  meet  Major -  at 


415 


Holyhead;  where  I  conclude  they  now  are,  he  not 
having  yet  reached  that  place.’ 

The  Archbishop  encloses  me  a  warm-hearted 
letter,  written  to  him  by  Wilberforce,  in  conse¬ 
quence  of  a  note  from  me.  They  have  not  yet  met, 
but  I  think  they  will  meet ;  and  I  am  authorized  to 
anticipate  a  right  pleasant  meeting ;  both  being  a 

little  heretical  about  the  R - -  C - ’s.  They  may 

compare  notes,  while  I  meditate  my  schemes  of 
revenge  against  both  ;  against  Mr.  W.,  more  than  the 
Archbishop ;  for  his  Grace,  to  his  honour  be  it 
spoken,  was  silent. 

I  was  not  a  little  struck,  a  day  or  two  ago,  with 
what  I  well  remembered  to  have  read  before,  .  .  the 
following  passage  in  a  quotation  from  Farrer’s  ser¬ 
mons,  at  the  Bampton  Lecture,  on  the  Beatitudes. 
Eclec.  Rev.  for  Aug.  1805. 

‘  It  deserves  our  attention,  that,  as  they  are 
formed  on  the  model  of  certain  introductory  sen¬ 
tences  in  the  psalms,  which  pronounce  a  blessing  on 
various  dispositions ;  so,  they  are  delivered,  in  the 
same  sententious  and  proverbial  style.  Thence,  they 
bear  the  complexion  of  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews  ; 
which,  in  its  prevailing  character,  is  combined  of 
parallel  sentences;  clauses,  wherein  proposition  cor¬ 
responds  with  proposition,  and  term  is  answerable 
to  term.  Thus,  every  sentence,  in  this  series,  is 
composed  of  two  clauses  ;  of  which  the  former  pro¬ 
nounces  a  certain  disposition  blessed ;  as  the  latter 
states,  wherein  this  blessedness  consists.’  This  is  a 
curious  coincidence. 

Farewell,  and  believe  me,  ever  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


41 G 


LETTER  57. 

„  (  j  f..v<  ft  ...  4  f 

To  Mo  Rev,  J,  Jebb , 


4  >  H 


Dublin,  June  29.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Your  letter  has  given  me  sincere  pleasure,  as  it 
contains  as  good  an  account,  as  I  could  have  reason¬ 
ably  expected.  You  say  about  poor  Whitty,  exactly 
what  fits  you  to  say :  at  the  same  time,  the  load  of 
labour  on  you,  is  to  be  regretted.  I  hope  it  will  not 
actually  hurt  you  ;  and  if  it  does  not,  it  may  do  you 
good,  though  not  consciously,  while  you  are  doing 
it.  Whitty  stays  so  long  from  Cashel,  with  great  re¬ 
luctance  ;  and  the  moment  he  can  venture  to  return, 
he  will ;  all  which  you  know. 

I  am  glad  you  have  taken  that  disporting  walk, 
through  the  paths  of  the  ancients.  Your  own  idea, 
founded  on  the  article  in  the  Athanasian  creed,  I 
conceive  very  just:  and  I  suppose,  a  particular  atten¬ 
tion  to  our  Lord’s  manner  of  speaking  respecting 
himself,  would  add  still  more  and  more  strength  to 
it.  His  language  being,  I  imagine,  always  ©sav^pco- 
7T07T p£7T7j£,  except  when  he  meant  to  conceal  his  real 
nature.  If  you  have  Nelson’s  Life  of  Bull,  you  will 
find  the  whole  matter  in  debate  largely  expatiated 
on  (Sect.  lvii.  &c.)  in  the  account  of  the  Fidei  Nicenae 
Defensio ;  and,  what  is  curious,  Calvin  appears  to  be 
the  great  antagonist  of  the  ancient  doctrine  :  what  a 
universal  innovator,  that  man  was!  and  yet,  it  seems, 
that  his  zeal  against  the  subordination,  did  not  imply 
equal  zeal  for  sameness  of  nature.  See  Orton’s  Let- 


417 


ters  to  Dissenting  Ministers,  pages  189.  and  196. 
(By  the  way,  I  could  wish  to  see  that  tract  of 
Fawcett’s.)  Thus,  you  see,  the  apparently  highest 
ground,  is  not  always  the  safest.  But  how  natural 
was  it,  in  Calvin,  to  take  the  ground,  that  excluded 
from  his  faith,  what  he  so  strongly  rejected  in  prac¬ 
tice  ;  personally,  no  less  than  ecclesiastically.  In 
fact,  subordination ,  was  not  a  term  in  John  Calvin’s 
vocabulary.  But  the  worst  of  it  was,  that,  by  not 
allowing  such  an  order  in  the  Divine  Essence,  as 
would  safely  explain  certain  texts,  which  seem  to 
exclude  strict  co-ordinateness,  he  created  a  necessity 
for  himself,  and  his  followers,  to  explain  them,  when 
accidentally  occurring,  in  a  manner,  not  strictly  con¬ 
sistent  with  the  co-essentiality :  all  which,  however, 
evinces  more  and  more,  that  Calvinism,  altogether,  is 
a  temporary  scaffolding  ;  which  has  so  little  firm  work 
in  it,  as  to  need  time,  and  its  own  weight  only,  at 
length  to  bring  it  down. 

A  new  work,  which  has  pleased  the  Archbishop 

much,  which  G -  brought,  and  has  left  with  me, 

and  which  you  will  see,  as  soon  as  the  Archbishop 
reaches  you,  would  convince  me  of  the  truth  of  this 
last  position ;  if  I  wanted  any  fresh  conviction.  It 
is  called  4  Zeal  without  Innovation  ’ ;  *  and  is  meant 
as  an  apology  for  evangelical  ministers  and  preaching. 
It  is  the  work  of  a  fair,  good,  ingenious,  and  liberal, 
mind.  It  concedes  so  much,  as  to  the  excesses  and 
anomalies  of  those  pleaded  for,  that  I  suspect  they 
will  give  small  thanks  to  their  advocate  \  and  yet  it 
maintains  enough  of  Calvinism,  to  make  it  sure  of 
having  no  effect,  in  conciliating  one  of  the  opponents. 
I  do  not  believe  the  writer  is  a  predestinarian,  though 

*  By  the  late  Reverend  and  excellent  James  Bean,  afterwards  a  valued  friend 
of  the  Bishop  of  Limerick  :  he  died  ‘  the  death  of  the  righteous’,  in  1826. ..En. 


VOL.  I. 


E  E 


418 


not  clear  from  puzzle  even  about  that ;  but  his  Cal¬ 
vinism  lies  in  his  notions  about  justification  by  faith  ; 
concerning  which,  he  talks  with  superior  incongruity, 
from  the  wish  to  make  it  palatable.  More,  in  this 
way,  than  he  has  done,  cannot  be  done :  yet,  I  con¬ 
ceive,  the  attempt  is  only  the  more  abortive.  No¬ 
thing,  therefore,  that  I  ever  saw,  proves  more  to  me 
the  present  increasing  necessity,  for  some  new,  and 
sounder  system.  In  describing  the  dilapidation  of 
the  establishment,  (which  he  honestly  loves,  though 
imperfectly  understood  by  him)  he  gives  a  strong, 
and  deplorably  just  picture;  but  he  offers  nothing, 
which  any  but  his  own  side,  and  but  a  very  few  of 
the  more  moderate  of  those,  will  deem  a  remedy.  I 
need  say  no  more  of  it,  till  you  see  it ;  except  this 
only,  that  since  filling  the  foregoing  pages,  I  have 
read  a  section,  with  this  title,  ‘  of  their  (the  evan¬ 
gelical  ministers)  insisting  on  the  necessity  of  a 
change  of  heart’ :  in  which,  there  is,  at  once,  actual  ex¬ 
cellence,  and  obvious  defect :  on  the  whole,  it  seems 
to  be  a  link  in  a  chain,  no  doubt  well  fitted  to  its  place  ; 
and,  compared  with  all  I  have  seen  before  from  the 
same  quarter,  wonderfully  interesting  and  valuable. 

Two  editions  of  Law’s  Theory,  the  4th  and  7th, 
lie,  at  this  moment,  before  me.  At  the  1  Gist  page 
of  the  4th,  and  at  the  178th  page  of  the  7th,  there 
is  a  note,  which,  by  this  double  direction,  you  will 
easily  find,  that  seems  to  me  highly  curious.  The 
part  I  refer  to,  is  a  quotation  from  Jeffery  on  the 
Philippians  ;  followed  by  Law’s  own  abbreviation  of 
Jeffery’s  view :  the  whole  of  which,  together,  gives  a 
progressive  view,  remarkably  according,  in  all  parts 
but  the  first  and  last,  with  our  notion  ;  and  partially 
falling  in  with  Villers  in  his  sketch.  The  first  period, 
he  extends,  you  will  see,  from  the  commencement. 


419 


to  Saint  Augustin ;  which  he  calls  the  period  of 
simplicity :  but  neither  our  Lord,  nor  his  apostles, 
were  simple,  in  his  sense ;  see  beginning  of  the  quo¬ 
tation  ;  nor,  after  such  simplicity  had  commenced, 
did  it  continue  more  than  two  generations ;  Clemens 
Alexandrinus,  clearly  introducing  a  new  system,  as 
Villers  has  seen  and  stated.  The  second  period, 
is  pretty  accurately  described ;  the  third,  with  some 
justness,  but  indiscriminately,  and  over  severely ;  the 
fourth,  the  most  accurate  of  all ;  the  fifth,  a  speci¬ 
men  of  sutor  ultra  crepidam  ;  yet  still  adding  to  the 
interest  of  the  whole.  But  mark  the  still  farther 
contraction  :  for,  however  erroneous,  it  is  neat  and 
ingenious.  1.  Virtue  and  piety,  &c.  2.  Nature  and 

grace,  &c.  3.  Church  and  sacrament,  &c.  4.  Christ 
and  faith,  &c.  being  a  refinement  upon  the  doctrine 
of  the  second  period :  well  guessed ;  a  modification, 
surely,  but  not  a  refinement.  Even  here,  4  the  old 
is  better.’  The  concluding  words  about  the  fifth 
period,  contain  as  ill-defined,  and  cloudy  a  hope,  as 
could  easily  be  expressed :  and  yet,  there  is  a  truth 
in  it,  though  not  as  he  understood  it. 

A  thought  struck  me  last  night,  which  brought 
some  new  light  with  it.  Compare  carefully,  Gal.  iii. 
19.  with  Deut.  v.  5.,  and  both,  with  Heb.  viii.  1,  2. 
&c.  especially  6.,  and  then  judge,  whether  Christ’s 
mediatorship  and  priesthood,  are  not  strictly  dis¬ 
tinguished  from  each  other.  Moses,  being  exclu¬ 
sively  the  type  of  the  former ;  and  Aaron,  and  his 
successors,  of  the  latter ;  and  the  excellency  of  the 
service,  which  he  performs  as  true  A siTouqyog,  arising 
from  the  excellency  of  the  covenant,  of  which  he  is 
M soriT^s :  clearly,  then,  according  to  the  obvious 
parallelism,  it  is  as  A sirov^-yog,  like  the  high  priest 
within  the  sanctuary,  that  he  acts  on  our  behalf  with 

e  e  2 


4  SO 


God;  and  as  clearly  it  is,  as  Mscrirrjg,  like  Moses, 
that  he  is  stated  to  act,  on  God's  great  business  with 
us :  that  is,  ‘He  stands  between  the  Lord  and  us,  to 
show  us',  most  substantially  and  sublimely,  c  the 
word  of  the  Lord' ;  inasmuch  as  human  nature  must 
still  be  afraid,  ‘  by  reason  of  the  fire  9 ;  and  could 
not  go  ‘  up  unto  the  mount'.  Now,  for  the  strictest, 
most  apposite,  and  most  beautiful  expansion  of 
K psirrovog  $i<xQr)xr)g  [xscrirrjg  stti  xqeittociv  S7 rayysT^ioug, 
read  closely  the  third,  and  to  the  sixth  verse  inclu¬ 
sive,  of  fourth  of  II  Corinthians.  In  my  judgment, 
nothing  could  harmonize  more  exquisitely,  than 
these  different  passages. 

I  thank  you  for  the  quotation.  It  is  clearly  as 
you  say.  The  danger,  in  that  kind  of  composition, 
is  quaintness  ;  of  which  Seneca  is  proof.  How  won¬ 
derful,  then,  that  it  should  have  been  so  largely,  and 
so  artfully  practised,  without  falling  into  quaintness. 
That  the  Hebrew  poetry  is  not  quaint,  is  clear,  from 
the  fact  of  its  poetic  character  being  so  generally  un¬ 
discovered.  It  pleases,  without  its  being  known  how. 

I  will  endeavour  speedily  to  do  your  bidding  about 

Mr. - .  I  will  send  you  Shaw’s  Emmanuel,  from 

Keen’s,  by  Whitty,  who  goes  on  Friday.  Dr.  P. 
thinks  he  should  stay  longer  at  Lucan.  I  advise 
him  to  go  to  Cashel,  and  see  how  he  will  be,  and 
return  if  necessary;  as  that  course,  at  all  events,  will 
make  things  easiest  to  his  mind. 

Yours  most  cordially, 

A.  K. 

P.S.  The  MS.  is  too  near  my  heart,  to  be  for¬ 
gotten  or  postponed. 

Miss  Fergusson  begs  to  be  kindly  remembered 
to  you. 


421 


LETTER  LX VI. 
To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  July  22.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

"When  I  look  at  the  date  of  your  last  letter,  I  am 
truly  ashamed  ;  and  yet,  if  I  had  not  matter  furnished 
me,  by  something  that  I  regard  more  complacently, 
than  the  idola  specus,  I  believe  I  should  be  obliged 
still  to  continue  a  defaulter.  But  our  visitation,  yes¬ 
terday,  afforded  me  very  sincere  gratification ;  of 
which  I  feel  desirous  that  you  should  be  a  partaker. 
Wednesday  evening,  the  modest  Archbishop  showed 
me  the  beginning  of  a  charge,  he  had  been  pre¬ 
paring  ;  and  yesterday  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  he 
showed  me  nearly  the  remainder.  You  well  know 
his  unaffected  diffidence,  in  his  own  very  sound  judg¬ 
ment,  and  respectable  talents.  It  will  not,  therefore, 
surprize  you,  that  he  felt  dissatisfied  with  what  he 
had  done;  and,  in  his  condescending  humility,  wished 
to  avail  himself;  even  of  my  opinion.  It  was  not 
without  difficulty,  that  I  could  diminish  his  appre¬ 
hension  of  addressing  the  clergy  ;  and  just  before  he 
began,  he  whispered  me  from  the  throne,  4  Now, 
Jebb,  if  this  should  turn  out  ill,  remember  the  bur¬ 
then  rests  on  your  shoulders/  Any  apprehension  I 
might  have  felt,  under  this  responsibility,  was  soon 
put  an  end  to.  He  was  listened  to  with  marked 
attention,  and  the  most  visible  satisfaction  ;  and  he 
delivered  a  very  neat,  simple  charge,  in  his  own 
meek,  cordial,  and  impressive  manner.  He  concisely 

e  e  3 


stated  the  charges,  which,  of  late,  have  been  publicly 
brought  against  our  establishment;  on  the  ground  of 
incorporations  of  parishes  ;  want  of  churches,  and 
glebe  houses ;  and  consequent  non-residence  of  the 
clergy.  That  these  blemishes  had  existed,  to  a  cer¬ 
tain  degree,  he  did  not  deny  ;  though,  certainly,  they 
had  been  much  exaggerated :  but  he  proved,  that 
they  naturally  and  necessarily  resulted,  from  the  cir¬ 
cumstances  of  this  country ;  and  that,  by  the  volun¬ 
tary  exertions  of  the  clergy,  and  out  of  their  own 
scanty,  and  precariously  collected  incomes,  they  had 
been,  for  a  long  course  of  years,  in  a  state  of  gradu¬ 
ally  progressive  diminution.  He  next  adverted  to 
what  had  been  done  for  our  Irish  establishments,  in 
the  last  session  of  parliament ;  especially,  with  respect 
to  facilitating  the  accommodation  of  the  clergy  with 
suitable  residences :  he  then  explained  the  nature  of 
the  late  residence  act ;  and  concluded  with  most  im¬ 
pressively  recommending,  and  enforcing  on  us,  that 
strict  attention  to  residence,  and  all  other  duties, 
which  is  so  imperiously  required  of  us,  by  the  libe¬ 
rality  evinced  in  our  favour ;  by  the  interest  which 
parliament  manifested,  and,  with  unprecedented  una¬ 
nimity,  takes,  in  our  welfare  and  respectability :  and 
by  the  importance  which  is  now  universally  attached 
to  our  exertions,  for  the  civilization,  and  improve¬ 
ment  of  this  country.  He  paid  some  very  handsome, 
and  I  do  think,  very  merited  compliments,  to  the 
clergy  of  this  diocese.  In  truth,  it  was  a  beautiful, 
and  delightful  exhibition.  He  was  like  a  true  apo¬ 
stolic  father,  addressing  children  that  he  loved.  I 
question,  whether  there  was  equal  simplicity  and 
purity  often  to  be  met,  in  the  primitive  ages  of  the 
church  :  at  least,  what  I  read  of  their  councils,  and 
other  clerical  meetings,  inclines  me  to  form  a  com- 


423 


parison,  not  by  any  means  discreditable  to  our  Cashel 
brethren ;  and,  above  all,  to  our  Cashel  visitor. 

But  I  have  more  pleasant  intelligence.  W - ab¬ 

solutely  astonished  me,  by  an  admirable  visitation 
sermon.  I  was  well  aware,  both  of  his  talents,  and 
of  his  having  deeply  and  radically  embraced  our 
ways  of  thinking ;  but  I  had  no  suspicion,  that,  in 
so  short  a  time,  his  talents  for  the  composition,  and 
delivery  of  a  sermon,  could  have  ripened  into  such 
excellence.  You  may  recollect  that,  about  two  years 
ago,  his  style  was  no  very  agreeable  imitation,  of 
honest  Matthew  Henry.  He  has  actually  emerged 
from  all  that  quaintness.  He  has  attained  a  ready 
flow  of  expression  ;  and  he  pours  forth  most  philo¬ 
sophical  sentiments,  with  an  ease,  which  I  apprehend 
a  certain  friend  of  yours  will  never  acquire.  We 
have  requested  the  publication  of  the  sermon.  The 
Archbishop  was  delighted,  and  declares  he  never 
heard  a  better.  I  own,  I  was  so  forcibly  struck,  that 
I  could  not  avoid  stepping  from  the  reading  desk  to 
the  throne,  and  asking  the  archbishop,  in  an  under 
tone  of  voice,  6  Will  you  not  ask  him  to  publish  ?’  My 
idea  is,  that  it  was  admirably  prepared  for  delivery ; 
but  that  it  will  require  some  little  modifications,  to 
fit  it  for  the  press.  There  may  possibly  be  a  little 
redundant  scripture  phraseology,  to  be  pruned  ;  a 
too  frequent  recurrence  of  the  text  to  be  moderated  ; 
and  joints,  or  hinges,  to  be  added  to  the  several  divi¬ 
sions.  But  I  need  not  tell  all  these  matters  to  you, 

as  W - proceeds  for  Dublin  on  tuesday ;  and  will 

submit  the  discourse  to  your  inspection.  He  is  not 
so  committed,  but  that  he  may  creditably  recede,  if 
you  recommend  suppression.  I  hope,  however,  you 
may  see  cause  to  judge  favourably,  as  it  is  surely  of 
importance,  that  it  should  be  shown  to  the  British 

e  e  4 


424 


and  Irish  public,  that  our  church  is  not  dumb ;  and 
specially  desirable,  that  our  ways  of  thinking,  should 
be  not  only  fully  imbibed,  but  intelligently  put  for¬ 
ward,  by  a  man  who  evidently  possesses  a  very  strong 

mind.  On  this  last  ground,  I  am  desirous  that  W - 

should  preach  in  Dublin,  the  Sunday  he  will  be  there, 
the  31st  instant.  He  has  acquiesced  in  my  proposal, 
if  the  Asylum  pulpit  should  be  vacant  for  him ;  and 
this  matter  you  can  easily  arrange  with  N - . 

It  affords  me  deep,  and  cordial  gratification,  that 
W - should  thus  increase,  whilst  I  cannot  but  ap¬ 

prehend,  that  I  am  rapidly  decreasing.  Providence 
arranges  matters  wonderfully.  If  it  be  the  Divine 
will,  that  I  should  intellectually  sink,  it  is  truly  con¬ 
solatory,  that,  at  the  same  time,  a  chosen  friend 
should  come  forward,  with  such  promise  of  being 
eminently  useful ;  and  of  giving  efficient  support,  to 
precisely  that  very  system,  which  the  world  seems 
to  want  at  this  day.  Surely,  if  this  prime  truth  and 
good  be  advancing  upon  earth,  it  is  comparatively  a 
trifling  matter,  who  are  the  instrumental  agents. 

I  had  been  aware  of,  and  made  use  of,  Nelson’s 
Life,  as  well  as  Bishop  Bull’s  Defensio  Fidei  Nicenae. 
The  passage  of  Law,  I  well  recollected  having  viewed 
just  as  you  do ;  and,  on  referring  to  the  book,  I  was 
glad  that  we  quite  coincide.  Your  thought  about 
Mscrirris  is  important.  I  read  the  passages  carefully; 
but  determined  on  a  still  more  special  examination  of 
them,  at  a  more  convenient,  and  healthful  season. 
That  has  not  yet  arrived.  Faxit.  D.  O.  M. ! 

W - will  probably  disclose  to  you,  and  his  sermon, 

indeed,  will  evince,  that  he  is  not,  just  now,  so  evan¬ 
gelic  in  his  mode  of  preaching,  as  he  could  wish. 
This,  I  tell  him,  will  arrive,  at  no  distant  day.  If 
you  are  out  of  town,  I  am  sure  you  will  hasten  thither 


425 


to  meet  him.  He  goes  to  bring  his  sister  to  G., 
and  can  be  absent  from  home  but  one  Sunday.  Let 
me  also  hint  in  your  ear,  that,  though  I  do  not 
deserve  such  kindness,  you  cannot  at  present,  in 
the  whole  sphere  of  your  correspondence,  write  a 
letter  to  a  person,  who  more  requires  to  be  cheered 
by  one  than  I  do. 

I  request  my  kindest  regards  to  Miss  Fergusson. 

Your  most  obliged  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  58. 
To  the  Rev .  J .  Jebb . 


Dublin,  July  30.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

#  #  #  #  #  # 

All  you  tell  me  about  the  visitation  is  highly  pleas¬ 
ing  ;  and  even  the  minuter  circumstances,  served 
to  heighten  the  effect;  to  you,  at  least,  who  had 
before  your  mind  what  others  had  not.  What  you 
say  of  the  sermon  delights  me,  except  the  drawback 
at  the  top  of  your  last  page,  though  I  join  in  your 
hope  of  the  ‘  no  distant  day.’ 

But  before  I  sav  another  word,  I  must  come  to 
yourself,  my  good  friend !  Is  it  the  writer  of  such 
a  letter,  that  talks  of  decreasing,  or  of  being  spell¬ 
bound  ?  But  I  know  your  feeling  well ;  and  I  assure 
you,  have  had  my  share  of  it.  I  do  not  know  when 
I  was  in  worse  writing  trim,  than  for  the  last  three 
weeks.  I  wished  to  say  something  by  way  of  dis- 


426 


sertation,  on  the  fulness  of  time  spoken  of  by  St. 
Paul  in  Galatians ;  but  the  third  attempt  to  make  a 
beginning,  is  yet  imperfect;  and  there  must  be  a 
fourth  attempt,  or  relinquishment ;  which  latter,  I 
being  pertinacious,  have  not  yet  consented  to.  I 
cannot  but  think  there  has  been  more  than  usual 
oppressiveness  in  the  weather.  My  head  has  been 
so  affected,  as  to  give  an  unusual  aridity  to  all  my 
mental  movements  ;  so  that,  were  I  not  acquainted 
with  my  own  fluctuations,  I  might  form  uncomfort¬ 
able  inductions.  But  I  do  not;  for  my  experience 
corrects,  what  my  present  sensations  might  seem  to 
indicate. 

The  attempts  at  innovation,  which  I  apprehended 
this  year  among  the  methodists,  passed  wholly  off. 
Adam  Clarke  has  got  other  employment ;  which  will 
keep  his  hands,  as  well  as  head,  busy,  for  much  of  the 
remainder  of  his  life.  And  another  whom  I  looked 

for,  a  Mr.  R- - ,  was  prevented  from  coming,  by 

the  indisposition  of  his  brother-in-law,  A.G. ;  so  that 
the  methodists  are  exactly  where  they  were  ;  and  I 
now  think,  this  late  cloud  being  thus  dissipated, 
they  are  likely  enough  to  remain  so,  until  some  new 
movement  shall  take  place,  from  causes  not  yet  ap¬ 
parent. 

I  therefore  feel  disposed  to  continue  all  my  former 
friendly  endeavours,  where  an  opportunity  shall  offer ; 
as  I  conceive  wesleyan  methodists,  not  dissenterized, 
are,  comparatively  with  all  others,  our  next  of  kin. 
I  conversed  at  large,  with  one  only,  during  the  con¬ 
ference  ;  but  that  one,  is  a  sensible,  shrewd  man  ; 
and  has  great  influence.  I  found  him  not  quite  im¬ 
penetrable  to  our  wavs  of  thinking,  about  church 
matters ;  and  I  should  not  despair,  were  these  op¬ 
portunities  to  occur,  of  so  far  introducing  our  views, 


427 


into  the  minds  of  the  best  description  of  methodist 
preachers,  as  to  give  them  a  steadiness,  which,  as 
yet,  they  have  not ;  and  a  feeling  toward  the  esta¬ 
blished  church,  which,  hitherto,  they  have  had  upon 
their  tongues,  far  more  than  in  their  hearts. 

I  acted  on  the  plan  I  speak  of,  last  monday,  at 

B - .  A  methodist  preacher,  who  had  preached 

in  D - -,  the  evening  before,  came  to  the  chapel 

in  the  morning.  I  desired  to  tell  him,  that  I  should 
be  glad  to  walk  about  with  him  after  breakfast.  I 
did  so ;  and  got  into  very  reasonable  talk  with  him. 
I  told  him,  that  my  grand  exception  to  methodism 
v/as,  that,  though  capital  for  giving  first  impressions, 
it  did  not  promote  maturity.  I  owned  it  afforded 
examples  of  maturity ;  but  even  they  appeared  to  me 
not  to  have  the  faculty,  of  diffusing  what  they  pos¬ 
sessed.  This  sounded  strange  to  him ;  so  I  led  him 
to  St.  Paul’s  twofold  figure  of  vegetation,  and  build¬ 
ing  ;  pointing  out  the  difference,  between  the  com¬ 
parative  passiveness  implied  in  the  first,  and  the 
indispensable  exertion  requisite  in  the  second;  which 
exertion,  again,  requires  profounder  skill  than  the 
first  business,  in  the  proportion  of,  six  to  one  I  was 
going  to  say,  but  the  true  statement  is,  that  the  first 
business  requires  no  skill,  for  ‘  other  foundation  can 
no  man  lay’  ;  but  the  second  demands  choice  within 
choice  ;  the  materials  being  generically  perishable, 
and  imperishable  specifically  ;  more  or  less  precious, 
and  more  or  less  vile.  This,  I  further  illustrated,  by 
referring  to  Hebrews,  end  of  v.  and  beginning  of  vi. 
and  begged  him  to  consider,  whether  the  methodists 
had  any  idea  of  what  it  was  to  leave  first  principles  ? 
I  showed  him  how  accurately  these  first  principles  are 
classified,  and  enumerated. 

I.  As  things  to  be  taught.  1.  Repentance.  2. 


428 


Faith.  3.  Baptism.  4.  Laying  on  of  hands.  5.  Re¬ 
surrection.  6.  Eternal  judgment.  II.  As  things  to 
be  experimentally  felt.  1.  Illumination.  2.  Tasting 
of  the  heavenly  gift.  3.  Being  made  partakers  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  4.  Tasting  the  good  word  of  God.  5. 
Powers  of  the  world  to  come.  All  which,  however, 
are  but  first  principles,  as  the  connection  shows,  and 
as  is  seen  by  contrasting  the  highest  of  these  mere 
sensations,  with  the  ‘  senses  being  exercised,  by  rea¬ 
son  of  use,  to  discern  both  good  and  evil 5  :  that  is, 
good,  from  evil ;  and  more  excellent,  from  less  ex¬ 
cellent.  I  must  not  add  another  word,  as  I  am  sum¬ 
moned  to  attend  my  friends. 

Ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  39. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jehb. 


Dublin,  Aug.  20.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Yesterday,  I  arrived  here,  after  our  expedition  to 

R - ,  and  I  must  say  that,  from  first  to  last,  it  was  a 

pleasant  business.  Our  intercourse  was  never  so  com¬ 
fortable  before,  as  on  this  late  occasion.  Every  thing 
I  saw  and  heard,  tended  to  confirm  me  in  my  idea,  of 
J.  D.’s  having  been  placed  there  by  the  hand  of  Provi¬ 
dence,  in  order  to  his  being,  for  the  present,  a  shelter 
to  the  inferior  plan  of  usefulness,  in  which  G.  C.  is 
employed ;  and,  also,  to  his  own  preparedness  for  su- 


429 


perior  usefulness,  in  the  event.  Of  the  first  of  these 
suppositions,  no  man  can  more  feel  the  justness  and 
weight  than  G.  C.  himself.  It  is  most  gratifying  to 
hear  all  he  says  of  J.  D.  ‘  He  is  leaving  us  all  be¬ 
hind  ’,  said  he.  ‘  He  is  the  first  instance  I  ever  knew, 
of  a  man’s  life  so  wonderfully  rising  above  his  faith.’ 
In  fact,  neither  word,  nor  thought  can  go  higher, 
than  G.  C.’s  estimate  of  J.D.;  and  what  is  addition¬ 
ally  delightful,  they  mutually  deem  each  other’s 
preaching  improved.  I  think,  with  justest  reason : 
G.  being  softened  and  liberalized ;  and  J.  being  spi¬ 
ritualized  and  sublimated.  After  all,  there  were 
points  of  palpable  difference,  between  the  latter  and 
me ;  though  neither  was  disposed  to  dwell  on  them. 
I  conceive  the  greatest  dissonance  now  is,  mysticism. 
J.  D.  is  persuaded,  that,  in  the  great  ameliorative 
process,  the  grand  reliance  here  below,  is  on  suffer¬ 
ing.  This  makes  him  still  start  back  from  the  idea, 
of  even  predominant  religious  happiness  ;  as  well  as 
disposes  him  overmuch  to  asceticism.  Yet  he  has 
somewhat  given  way.  He  came  the  length  of  allow¬ 
ing,  that  my  view  was  probably  a  safe  one  for  me  ; 
but  he  doubted  much  if  it  would  be  safe  for  him. 
There  is  progress,  however,  in  this  thought :  and  if 
there  be  no  retrogression,  we  may  indulge  strong 
hope.  Besides,  he  is  in  the  very  best  school  imagin¬ 
able  for  being  trained  aright,  in  this  very  particular : 
for  G.  C.,  with  lower,  and  less  philosophical  views,  is 
obviously  happy,  and  yet  obviously  safe.  Why,  then, 
should  not  J.  D.  be  as  happy,  and  as  safe,  as  the 
other  ? 

This,  I  think,  he  will  feel  more  and  more;  and 
learn  wisdom  from  it.  I  trust  he  will  also  improve, 
in  accurate  knowledge  of  the  Scripture  ;  and  find  in 
that,  what  assuredly  it  contains,  the  true  antidote 


430 


against  all*  excesses.  G.  C.  preached  on  Sunday 
morning  ;  and  J.  D.  in  the  evening.  The  sermon  of 
the  latter  was  of  course  a  good  deal,  indeed  wholly, 
in  his  own  way ;  but  it  was,  notwithstanding,  solidly 
good  and  useful.  Mrs.  P.  L.  was  much  pleased  with 
it ;  yet  not  more  than  there  was  good  ground  for. 
The  evening  sermon  was  explicitly,  and  without 
compromise,  pious  and  strict.  The  subject  was  c  Inas¬ 
much  as  ye  have  done  it,  &c.’  St.  Matt.  25.;  and  most 
clearly,  and  to  G.  C.’s  delight,  he  showed,  that  it  was 
not  mere  beneficence  which  was  referred  to,  but  pre¬ 
dilection  for  the  true  disciples  and  brethren  of  our 
Saviour ;  adducing  as  proof^  his  own  words,  ‘  Who  is 
my  mother,  and  who  are  my  brethren,  &c.’  On  the 
whole,  nothing  could  have  been  looked  for  more 
pleasant,  than  our  intercourse  throughout ;  and  no¬ 
thing  could  be  more  cordial  than  the  pleasure  he  ex¬ 
pressed,  at  what  he  had  heard  men  of  the  bar  say 
about  your  preaching. 

I  began  this  letter  in  Dublin,  on  Saturday  ;  intend¬ 
ing  it  for  that  night’s  post.  Monday  is  now  come, 

and  I  writing  in  the  reading  room  of  B - .  I  must, 

however,  say  no  more ;  in  order  to  catch  an  oppor¬ 
tunity,  which,  even  now,  is  hazardous.  When  you 
can  write,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  hear  from  you, 
being  most  cordially  yours, 


A.  K. 


431 


LETTER  LXVII. 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 


Cashel,  Aug,  31.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

How  deeply  am  I  in  your  debt,  and  how  unable  to 
repay !  But  I  must  say  something,  though  it  were 
only  to  put  in  an  impudent  claim  for  further  credit : 
though,  be  your  patience  what  it  may,  I  can  hardly 
promise  that  I  shall  ever  repay  you  all.  Your  letter 
did  not  reach  me,  or  rather  I  did  not  reach  it,  till 
monday  last.  I  had  been  the  whole  of  the  preceding 

week  at  G - ;  from  whence  W - accompanied 

me  to  Cashel.  I  communicated  what  you  say  about 
his  sermon  ;  and  he  is  perfectly  satisfied  to  acquiesce, 
in  whatever  you  may  finally  think  expedient ;  being 
convinced  that,  in  such  matters,  there  need  be  no 
appeal  from  your  judgment. 

On  every  account,  your  report  of  the  expedition 
rejoices  me.  I  think  I  can  enter  fully  into  the  whole 
business ;  and,  surely,  few  things  could  be  more  truly 
delightful,  than  to  see  fierce  polemicals  thus  charmed 
away,  by  the  bland  and  kindly  influences  of  affection 
and  good  will.  There  can  be  little  doubt,  that  G.  C., 
and  G.  C.’s  system,  will  assume  a  character,  very  far 
surpassing  ordinary  Calvinism.  Who  can  tell,  but 
that  in  it,  there  may  be  a  remote  preparation,  for  the 
future  reception  and  diffusion  of  a  more  excellent 
scheme?  At  all  events,  it  is  a  great  matter,  that 
practical  goodness,  without  dogmatical  theology,  can 
excite  such  cordial  affection  :  and  here,  even  our 


432 


amiable  friend’s  mysticism  and  asceticism  may  do 
essential  service.  Is  it  not  probable,  that  these  gene¬ 
rate  a  kind  of  goodness,  most  likely  to  attract  people 
ofG.  C.’s  school ;  and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  they 
produce  in  J.  D.,  a  greater  degree  of  tenderness,  for 

the  wilderness  piety  of  his  II - -  friends,  than  could 

have  arisen,  merely  from  the  kindly  feelings  of  his 
own  mind,  and  tolerant  nature  ?  I  own  I  am  disposed 
to  view  the  very  dissonances  from  our  way  of  think¬ 
ing,  as  part  of  the  providential  apparatus,  which  fits 
J.  D.  for  exercising  a  most  beneficial  influence  on  the 
other  plan  of  usefulness  ;  and  perhaps,  when  that 
is  able  to  subsist  alone,  he  may  be  brought  to  throw 
off’  these  exuviae,  and  move  unfettered,  and  range  at 
large,  in  the  wider  field,  and  purer  air,  of  our  system. 
He  would,  in  truth,  be  an  invaluable  acquisition :  not 
that  I  expect  he  will  ever  become  thoroughly  solid 
and  consecutive  ;  but  I  soberly  think,  that,  if  he  were 
cordially  to  embrace  our  ways  of  thinking,  he  would 
produce  greater  popular  effect,  than  any  other  indivi¬ 
dual  in  the  community  would  be  capable  of  doing  ; 
and  that  this  very  want  of  compactness  and  arrange¬ 
ment,  would,  in  no  small  degree,  conduce  to  his 
popularity. 

If  you  could  but  suggest  a  text  and  subject,  in  my 
way,  it  would  be  a  wondrous  stimulus  and  aid  to. 
Your  most  obliged  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb. 


4  S3 


LETTER  LXVIII. 

To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 

Cashel,  Sept.  10.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

The  near  prospect  of  seeing  you  at  Cashel,  has  been 
absolutely  reviving  to  my  spirits  ;  and  you  will  readily 
believe,  that  it  afforded  no  small  gratification  to  our 
friends  at  the  palace. 

I  must  say,  that  I  have  been  wofully  disappointed 
in  Paley’s  sermons.  There  are,  to  be  sure,  some 
choice  passages  ;  very  few,  however,  besides  those, 
which  we  had  previously  selected  for  us,  in  different 
Reviews.  And  even  here,  I  suspect  he  often  uses 
a  more  spiritual  phraseology,  than  his  sentiments 
entitle  him  to.  He  talks  of  the  absolute  necessity  of 
divine  grace  ;  but  we  discover,  in  other  places,  that, 
by  grace,  he  means  nothing  more  than  favour.  He 
describes,  most  nobly,  the  habit  of  devotion ;  but, 
when  he  comes  to  specify  the  subject-matter  of  devo¬ 
tion,  as  sermon  viii.  142.,  does  he  not  betray  won¬ 
derful  tameness  ?  There  is,  assuredly,  nothing  of 
Chrysostomian  fervour ;  no  wing ;  no  tendency  to 
soar.  His  notions  of  love  to  God,  are  absolutely 
grovelling.  See  p.  42.,  sermon  ii.  &c.  :  ‘  Towards 
the  author  of  an  obligation  which  is  infinite,  thank¬ 
fulness  is  the  only  species  of  love  which  can  exist !’ 
In  sermon  xviii.  p.  288.,  and  sermon  xxii.  p.  341., 
does  he  not  speak  the  language  of  most  unqualified 
arianism  ?  So,  at  least,  it  appears  to  me  ;  for  I  think 
none  but  an  arian  can  maintain,  that  the  eternal 


VOL.  i. 


F  F 


434 


Aoyog  is  now  advanced  to  a  higher  state,  than  what 
he  possessed  before  his  incarnation  ;  and  that  none 
but  an  arian  could  speak  of  6  Him  who  came  down 
from  heaven’,  merely  as  being  ‘  united  with  the 
Deity,  as  no  other  person  is  united.’  This,  surely,  is 
ranker  arianism  than  Dr.  Clarke’s.  Add,  that,  in  no 
part  of  his  sermons,  is  Christ  explicitly  termed,  God. 
After  all,  this  work  may  do  good.  In  many  points, 
Paley  seems  to  have  advanced  on  himself,  and  on  all 
of  his  school.  Some  important  principles  are  laid 
down  ;  and  some  valuable  concessions  are  made  :  and 
he  affords  not  a  few  happy  instances,  of  what  may  be 
done,  in  the  way  of  familiarizing  deep  truth,  by  di¬ 
vesting  it  of  technical  phraseology. 

Last  night,  I  got  my  reviews.  They  seem,  so  far 
as  I  have  looked  into  them,  more  interesting  than 
usual.  Is  there  not,  however,  too  much  effort  at 
fine  writing,  and  at  originality  of  expression,  in  the 
Eclectic  ?  I  felt  particularly  disposed  to  ask  myself 
this  question,  in  reading  the  article  upon  Cowper’s 
Milton  ;  which  also  sins  against  just  taste,  and  en¬ 
lightened  piety. 

Do  you  not  like  the  article  in  the  Christ.  Obs.,  on 
Miss  Smith’s  fragments  ?  There  is  a  liberality  in  it, 
which  I  have  seldom  seen  exhibited  in  that  work. 
The  writer,  whatever  may  be  his  theological  senti¬ 
ments,  is  evidently  not  afraid  to  move  without  doc¬ 
trinal  shackles ;  and  I  was  gratified  to  find  him 
quoting,  in  terms  of  high  commendation,  some  pas¬ 
sages  with  which  I  myself  had  been  particularly 
pleased,  in  reading  the  work  at  large.  This  was, 
assuredly,  a  prodigy  of  a  young  woman.  Such  ma¬ 
ture,  such  just  and  deep  reflections,  at  such  an  age, 
and  with  so  little  opportunity  of  sound  religious  in¬ 
struction,  astonish  me.  What  she  says  of  humility 


435 


is  admirable  ;  and  the  passage  beginning,  c  Great 
actions,  &c.’  C.  O.  p.  518,  2.  is  wonderfully  solid 
and  practical.  These  sayings  are  worthy  of  Howe.* 
What  might  this  self-taught  young  person  have  be¬ 
come,  had  her  religious  friends  been  of  a  higher 
school,  than  Mrs.  B - ,  and  Dr.  It - ! 

I  am  sure  the  passage  you  recommend  for  a  text, 
is  pregnant ;  but  I  cannot,  at  present,  draw  a  mental 
sketch  of  a  sermon  from  it.  With  the  aid  of  hints,  I 
might.  You  know,  that  from  hints  I  always  work 
best :  therefore,  if  you  can,  do  write  about  a  page  on 
the  subject.  I  long  to  be  set  at  work,  but  I  am  not 
automatous.  I  need  to  be  wound  up. 

Yours  most  affectionately, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  60. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb* 

Dawson  Street,  Sept.  12. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  must  not  attempt  to  give  hints  about  the  text,  as 
(the  bell-man,  I  was  going  to  say,  is  in  this  street .  . 
but  that  is  past,)  a  friend  has  come  in  ;  and  I  must 
merely  add,  that  I  thank  you  for  your  pleasant  and 
interesting  letter  :  your  superscription,  ever  refresh¬ 
ing  me  5  and  your  contents,  never  disappointing  me. 
I  agree  in  all  your  remarks  ;  and  do  assure  you,  I 
thought  of  Howe,  while  I  read  the  fragments.  Mark 
that!  I  must  only  lodge  an  exception,  about  the 

*  The  author  of  the  *  Meditations.’  .  •  Ed. 

F  F  2 


436 


remarks  in  the  C.  O.  ;  as  some  recollection  hovers 
over  me,  of  my  being  struck  with  some  dissentient, 
or  jealous  ideas.  Whatever  they  were,  if  they  were 
just,  you  will  agree  with  me  when  I  explicate  them. 
In  the  mean  time,  believe  me, 

Ever,  most  cordially  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  61. 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehb. 


Sept.  21.  1808.  After  dinner. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  shall  have  little  time,  and  can  of  course  say  little  ; 
but  little  or  much,  you  shall  have  till  the  last  minute. 

Poor - has  lost  his  daughter,  and  has  had  his 

wife  in  a  dangerous  fever.  I  received  a  letter  from 
him,  yesterday  morning,  acquainting  me  with  the 
latter  fact;  and  expressing  hope,  that  the  worst  is 

over.  I  trust  he  is  right.  One  way  or  other,  - - 

will  be  c  brought  to  the  haven,  where  he  should  be/ 
I  was  gratified  by  his  writing  to  me,  in  a  way  above 
all  selfishness.  I  was  glad  on  his  own  account ;  for 
there  is  so  much,  in  the  things  I  say,  to  revolt  his  na¬ 
tural  feelings,  that  his  kindliness  towards  me,  is,  I 
cannot  but  think,  a  symptom  of  advanced,  and  ad¬ 
vancing  self-subjugation. 

I  have  lately  read  a  beautiful  kind  of  thing ;  the 
Life  and  Remains  of  Henry  Kirke  White.  Perhaps 
I  have  already  mentioned  it  to  you.  Could  I  catch 
it  in  paper,  I  would  send  it  by  post.  H.  K.  W.  was 


437 


a  prodigy ;  too  much  marked  with  precocity,  cer¬ 
tainly,  to  afford  hope  of  continuity  ;  but  a  wonderful 
creature  he  was,  undoubtedly,  both  for  talent,  and 
piety.  The  latter  cordial ;  but,  as  it  should  seem, 
not  sufficiently  steady.  Perhaps  this  circumstance, 
which  the  initiated  only  can  understand,  accounts 
best  for  an  otherwise  inscrutable  arrangement. 

I  have  had  some  pleasant  talk  with  methodists,  on 
two  occasions,  this  week.  In  both  instances,  I  have 
been  profoundly  gratified.  A  wonderful  willingness 
appeared  to  drink  in  what  I  said ;  and  the  approba¬ 
tion  given  to  it,  was  so  discrimi natively,  and  so  taste¬ 
fully  expressed,  that  my  satisfaction  was  as  deep  as  it 
has  ever  been ;  two  or  three  special  instances,  always 
excepted.  The  cordiality  of  reception  was  such, 
that  it  has  really  given  hope  of  doing  some  good, 
through  the  blessing  of  God,  to  my  old  friends. 
Severed  more  and  more  as  they  are,  from  their 
brethren  in  England,  they  may  be  disposed  to  listen 
to  primitive  doctrine  from  us  (qualescunque  sumus)  ; 
and,  if  so,  what  might  not  this  lead  to  ?  The  metho¬ 
dists,  without  any  outward  alteration,  that  any  one 
could  discover  but  ourselves,  might  positively,  in  my 
judgment,  become  the  most  efficient  friends  to  the 
established  church  simply  by  their  being  brought  to 
breathe  the  same  spirit  with  itself, 

I  may  appear  over  sanguine,  but  a  short  letter 
cannot  explain  all  my  grounds. 

Believe  me,  ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


S’  F  S 


438 


LETTER  LXIX. 

To  A.  Knox ,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Oct.  20.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

About  a  month  ago,  I  wrote  you  a  very  prolix 
letter ;  which,  I  fear,  has  frightened  you  out  of  all 
correspondence  with  me.  I  am  now  about  to  write 
a  very  short  one ;  and  in  the  first  place,  let  me  men¬ 
tion,  that  the  Archbishop  intends  setting  off,  to-mor¬ 
row,  for  town :  so  that,  of  course,  you  will  see  him, 
either  on  Saturday,  or  Sunday. 

It  will  give  you  pleasure  to  hear,  that  a  living  of 
6001.  falls  to  my  worthy  friend,  Geo.  Forster.  He  is 
to  be  succeeded  in  the  Archbishop’s  cure,  by  J. 
Forster  *,  who  is  to  come  and  reside  in  Cashel. 

I  wish  to  know,  whether  you  would  have  any  ob¬ 
jection  to  present  a  memorial  from  me,  to  the  com¬ 
missioners  of  the  revenue,  through  your  friend  Mr.  H. 
It  is  on  the  subject  of  quit  rent ;  and  may  possibly 
be  the  means  of  saving  me  12/.,  which,  you  know', 
would  buy  twelve  quartos.  If  you  can  do  me  this 
good  office,  with  perfect  ease  to  your  own  feelings, 


*  The  Rev.  James  William  Forster,  LL.D.,  Vicar  General  of  Limerick, 
and  for  more  than  six  years,  Commissary  of  the  united  dioceses.  The  addresses 
unanimously  presented  to  Dr.  Forster,  on  the  close  of  his  delegated  admini¬ 
stration,  by  the  assembled  clergy  of  Limerick  and  Ardfert,  grateful  as  they 
naturally  were  to  the  feelings  of  his  attached  brother,  have  a  still  higher  value, 
as  testimonies  to  the  wisdom  with  which,  absent  or  present,  in  sickness  no  less 
than  in  health,  the  presiding  mind  of  Bishop  Jebb  guided  and  governed  the  por¬ 
tion  of  Christ’s  Church  committed  to  his  charge.  .  .  Ed. 


439 


I  know  you  will  not  hesitate ;  and,  on  no  other  terms, 
should  I  wish  to  engage  you  in  this,  or  any  other 
concern,  of 

Your  very  faithful  and  affectionate  friend, 

John  Jebb4 


LETTER  62. 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jebh. 


Bellevue,  Oct.  24.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Nothing  on  this  earth  could  be  more  unfounded, 
than  your  suspicion  about  the  prolixity  of  your  letter. 
When  I  receive  a  letter  from  you,  my  first  matter  of 
inquiry  is,  whether  it  is  full ;  my  certainty  of  the 
quality,  ever  making  quantity,  alone,  my  point  of 
solicitude.  No,  my  friend.  Every  particle  of  your 
letter  was  interesting  to  me. 

I  am  very  glad,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  of  what  you 
tell  me  concerning  the  two  Forsters.  The  greater 
arrangement  is  clearly  right;  the  latter  consequent 
one,  I  hope  will  be  the  source  of  advantage  to  J.  F. : 
and  then  it  will  not  fail  to  give  pleasure  to  you. 

I  could  say  many  things,  but  I  wish  this  letter  to 
go  to  you  by  to-night’s  post ;  and  I  look  forward  to 
another  mode  of  communication.  I  am  sure  your 
arrangement  of  St.  James,  is  founded  in  fact ;  but,  I 
am  inclined  to  think,  the  same  conformation,  with 
more  or  less  exactness,  is  every  now  and  then  occur* 
ring,  in  all  the  apostolic  writings ;  and,  I  imagine, 

f  f  4 


440 


an  attention  to  this  particular  might  often  be  found 
of  use,  in  ascertaining  the  sense  of  obscure  passages. 

Your  collection  from  the  philosophers  and  poets, 
I  greatly  like ;  and  I  conceive,  it  might  be  highly 
useful  to  keep  the  plan  open  for  continual  increase, 
in  the  way  of,  not  a  common,  but  a  special  place- 
book.  I  am  sure  it  is  a  method  of  enriching  one’s 
own  mind  and  memory,  with  materials  applicable  to 
the  noblest  purposes.  Had  not  Leighton  followed 
that  method,  his  Prelections  would  not  have  been 
the  elegant  things  they  are;  nor  would  any  of  his 
writings  have  had  that  depth  and  richness  of  thought, 
which  all  writers,  that  understand  and  feel  him,  agree 
in  acknowledging. 

My  movements  will  be  regulated  by  those  of  the 
Archbishop,  from  whom  I  have  not  lately  heard,  but 
shall  probably  see  to-morrow,  (when  I  mean  to  be  in 
town)  or  Wednesday,  at  farthest.  I  had,  some  time 
since,  the  kindest  possible  letter  from  him  ;  but  I  do 
not  know  what  new  arrangements  he  may  have  made, 
since.  Therefore,  till  I  see  him,  I  can  say  nothing 
positively,  except  that,  when  I  go,  I  must  go  round 
by  Newtown  Barry ;  where,  however,  I  shall  stay 
only  a  very  few  days. 

Write  to  me,  when  you  can,  and  as  largely  as  you 
can.  Be  assured,  I  can  never  cease  to  value  what 
you  say  to  me ;  and  shall  never  be  wilfully  negligent 
in  replying. 


Yours  ever, 


A.  K. 


441 


LETTER  LXX. 
To  A .  K?iox,  Esq . 


Cashel,  Oct.  27.  1808* 

My  dear  Friend, 

Your  very  kind  letter  has  set  my  mind  at  ease.  For 
the  truth  is,  I  was  not  inapprehensive,  that  my  late 
pursuits  might  have  appeared  to  you,  either  trifling 
in  themselves,  or  too  eagerly  followed ;  or,  perhaps 
even  followed  to  the  neglect  of  other,  and  weightier 
matters  :  and  under  this  misapprehension,  I  could 
not  help  often  construing  your  silence,  into  a  tacit 
rebuke.  To  most  people,  say  what  I  might,  this 
feeling  would  yield  incontrovertible  proof  of  con¬ 
sciousness.  But  you  know  how  to  appreciate  more 
tenderly,  the  weaknesses  of  a  sensitively  nervous 
man.  I  am  happy  to  say,  that,  in  the  present  in¬ 
stance,  I  do  not  condemn  myself.  It  is  my  anxious 
wish  and  effort,  that  I  may  not  be  carried  away  by 
any  hobby-horse ;  and  I  know  that,  at  any  moment, 
I  would  with  joy  put  aside  all  the  poets,  philosophers, 
and  fathers,  for  even  the  remote  prospect  of  being 
able  to  compose  a  sermon.  But,  ‘  Quod  possumus, 
non  quod  volumus.’  Two  years  ago,  you  gave  me 
a  very  sound  and  seasonable  piece  of  advice :  ‘  Use 
every  thing,  but  do  not  let  yourself  become  fond  of 
any  thing/  This,  I  hope,  I  never  shall  forget. 

I  am  glad  that  you  like  the  plan  of  my  little  philo¬ 
sophical  collections  ;  and,  I  have,  in  intention,  anti¬ 
cipated  your  suggestion  of  keeping  it  open  for  further 


442 


increase,  as  choice  materials  might  present  them- 
selves.  At  a  future  day,  when  I  have  the  proper 
books  in  my  own  possession,  for  it  is  uncomfortable  to 
be  dragging  the  folios  of  the  library  to  my  own  apart¬ 
ments,  I  hope  to  collect,  in  a  similar  manner,  from 
the  fathers.  Such  a  plan,  I  should  conceive,  is  pecu¬ 
liarly  proper  for  me.  For  whether  it  be  from  the 
natural  temperament  of  my  mind,  or  from  whatever 
cause,  my  small  literary  movements  differ  from  those 
of  most  men.  All  my  little  acquisitions,  are  made 
by  short,  but  somewhat  vigorous  incursions.  I  am 
not  able  to  carry  on  a  regular  siege ;  much  less,  to 
establish  myself,  in  the  territory  I  have  invaded  ;  and 
therefore,  whenever  I  have  gained  a  little  booty,  I 
am  glad  to  retire  with  it  into  my  fastnesses,  and  wait 
my  opportunity  for  a  fresh  sally.  Now,  whatever  is 
acquired  in  this  predatory  manner,  is  very  difficult  to 
retain ;  and,  hence,  there  is  an  absolute  necessity,  of 
providing  magazines,  for  the  safe  custody  of  one’s 
spoil;  lest  the  fruits  of  one  incursion  be  lost,  while 
we  are  out  upon  another.  This  allegory  has  grown 
into  greater  length,  and  I  fear  into  more  perplexity 
than  I  had  dreamt  of;  but  you  need  not  be  told  what 
it  means.  It  is  my  object  to  secure  the  power  of  re¬ 
taining,  and  applying  those  materials,  which,  from 
their  miscellaneous  nature,  and  the  detached,  not  to 
say  the  desultory  mode  of  their  acquisition,  would 
otherwise  escape  the  memory,  or  fail  of  being  appli¬ 
cable  to  any  useful  purpose. 

I  am  thinking,  at  present,  of  composing  a  dis¬ 
course,  on  that  text  of  Saint  Peter,  4  The  end  of  all 
things  is  at  hand,  be  ye  therefore  sober,  and  watch 
unto  prayer.’  If  I  can  succeed,  I  intend  it  for  next 
Sunday  sennight.  When  I  look  back  upon  the  whole 
time  that  has  passed,  since  we  parted  at  B - ,  it  is 


443 


enough  to  dispirit  me  sadly,  that  I  have  absolutely 
written  but  one  sermon  ;  and  that,  not  at  all  to  my 
mind.  In  this  dearth,  I  have  been  reduced  to  draw,  a 
very  little,  on  Whitty ;  and,  chiefly,  on  my  old  stock, 
for  I  cannot  transcribe.  All,  however,  is,  I  trust, 
for  the  best.  I  cannot  charge  myself  with  idleness. 
There  has  been  an  effort  to  lay  up,  ‘  quod  mox  de- 
promere  possum.’  And  I  hope  the  obvious  lesson,  of 
diffidence  in  myself,  has  not  been  wholly  neglected. 
Meanwhile,  there  have  been,  and  are,  feelings  of  a 
hopeful,  and  perhaps,  even  of  a  complacent  nature. 
I  think  I  have  been  gaining  clearer  views  than  I 
ever  had,  how  the  instrumental  powers  should  be 
made  use  of ;  and,  with  the  aid  of  Cicero  and 
Quinctilian,  I  hope  to  find  my  way,  to  a  more  easy 
and  graceful,  as  well  as  forcible  management  of 
language.  To  get  rid  of  stiffness  and  elaborateness, 
and  to  attain  simplicity  and  freedom,  is,  I  believe, 
an  elaborate  process  j  but  I  feel  it  a  duty  to  labour 
in  this  department.  For,  I  do  verily  believe,  that 
I  have  little  or  nothing  of  an  originative  mind ;  but 
that,  if  they  are  duly  cultivated,  there  are  capacities 
in  me,  for  giving  to  truth,  however  I  may  come  at 
it,  some  of  the  graces  of  diction.  This,  I  feel  a 
presentiment,  is  to  be  my  department :  and  for  this, 
I  am  desirous  to  prepare.  One  object  which  I  wish 
to  keep  in  view,  is,  such  an  arrangement  and  dis¬ 
position,  both  of  words  and  sentences,  as  may  appear 
the  most  natural,  and  even  fortuitous ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  may  gratify  the  ear  with  a  certain  sweet¬ 
ness  and  harmony,  that  can  be  better  felt,  than 
described.  Some  one  has  remarked,  that,  in  listen¬ 
ing  to  an  innumerous,  and  unharmonious  discourse, 
people  feel  wearied  and  irksome,  they  do  not  know 
why  ;  and  that,  let  the  matter  be  ever  so  excellent. 


444 


This,  I  am  sure,  is  an  observation  perfectly  founded 
in  truth  and  nature.  For  all  men  have  ears.  ‘  Unum 
est,  et  simplex  aurium  judicium,  et  promiscue  ac 
communiter,  stultis  ac  sapientibus,  a  natura  datum  % 
says  Cicero  ;  and  says  Quinctilian,  ‘  Docti  rationem 
componendi  intelligunt ;  indocti  voluptatem.*  So 
that  in  this  respect,  we  are  debtors,  not  only  to  the 
Greeks,  but  also  to  the  Barbarians. 

(  Unfinished.') 


LETTER  63. 
To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb. 


Dawson  St.,  Nov.  3.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

####*# 

You  know,  before  this,  that  my  visit  to  you  is 
postponed.  I  love  home  so  entirely,  as  to  make  it 
somewhat  of  an  effort  in  me  to  move.  But  those  I 
love  elsewhere,  have  too  strong  a  hold  upon  my 
heart,  not  to  draw  me  easily  to  them*  There  was, 
therefore,  the  prospect  of  real  pleasure,  in  going; 
and  there  is  a  sensation  of  pleasure,  in  staying.  My 
mind  was  perfectly  ready  for  the  one,  and  is  as  per¬ 
fectly  acquiescent  in  the  other. 

Your  text  is  probably,  ere  this,  disposed  of ;  but, 
at  all  events,  you  are  interested,  in  all  that  can  be 
said  about  it.  It  was  probably  spoken,  under  a 


445 


strong  feeling  of  the  approaching  judgments,  on 
Judea,  and  Jerusalem ;  which,  perhaps,  were  then 
confounded,  by  most  Christian  Jews,  with  ‘  the  end  of 
all  things  in  its  fullest  sense.  There  is,  certainly, 
no  reason  to  suppose,  that  foresight  was  the  peculiar 
of  St.  Peter,  and  a  purpose  of  divine  Providence 
might  be  answered,  in  his  unfounded  apprehension. 
It  might  lead  him  to  express  more  strongly,  what 
ought  to  be  felt,  than  a  juster  view  of  the  fact  would 
have  suggested. 

But  how  true  is  it,  respecting  us,  individually,  that 
the  end  of  all  things  is  at  hand  !  ‘  In  the  midst  of 

life,  we  are  in  death 9  :  or,  as  St.  Peter  himself  won¬ 
derfully  expresses  it,  T outcov  ouv  n tclvtcdv 
7roTa.7roug  $ei  v7roi^siu  v[Aa.g  sv  ocyioug  avourTpofycug  xou 
svtrsSsiotig.*  Casimir’s  thought  occurs  to  me : 

Te,  licet  multo  pretiosus  auro 
Gemmea  vestem  moderere  zona 
Et  super  collo  Tyriasamicet 
Fibula  lanas, 

Jure  Phcenissis  vaga  penna  cristis 
Stare  labenti  dubitat  galero  ; 

Jure,  quo  fulgis  timidum  refigi 
Palluit  aurum.f 

This>  you  see,  is  7tolvtcdv  Xdo[xsvo)v,  . .  because  ‘  these 
things  perish  in  the  using.’  They  have  no  solidity 


*  II  Pet.  iii.  11. 

t  Though,  gorgeous  with  resplendent  gold, 

The  jewelled  zone  thy  vest  infold  ; 

Thy  Tyrian  cloak,  with  curious  grasp, 
Though  graceful  holds  the  studded  clasp  ;  .  . 
Yet  justly  thy  Phoenician  crest 
Waves  its  plumed  pride,  and  fears  to  rest 
Upon  the  tottering  helmet’s  height,  »  . 
Justly,  upon  thy  raiment  bright, 

Too  conscious  of  its  failing  hold, 

Quivers  with  dread  the  pallid  gold. 


446 


in  themselves.  They  are  phantoms  of  bliss  ;  except 
they  are  used  exactly  as  they  should  be ;  that  is,  as 
St.  Paul  explains,  1  Cor.  vii.  29,  &c. 

The  direction,  founded  on  the  approach  of  the 
end  of  all  things,  strikes  me  as  remarkably  just.  Be 
ye,  therefore,  sober:  this  refers  to  ‘all  things’ :  ‘and 
watch  unto  prayer’  :  this  refers  to  ‘  the  end.’  Be¬ 
cause  every  thing  is  transient,  evanescent,  .  .  use 
every  thing  soberly ;  and  because  the  end  is  coming, 
be  watchful.  It  is,  literally,  ‘  take  time,  from  your 
sleep,  for  devotion.’  Though  the  finest  interpreta¬ 
tion,  is  that  of  our  Lord,  ‘  Let  your  loins  be  girded, 
and  your  lamps  burning,  and  ye  yourselves,  like  those 
who  wait  for  their  Lord ;  that,  when  he  cometh  and 
knocketh,  ye  may  open  unto  him  immediately.’ 

Still,  however,  the  sobriety  lies,  in  the  manner  of 
using  what  is  present ;  and  the  watchfulness,  in  being 
prepared  for  what  is  to  come.  The  shade  thrown 
into  the  picture,  by  placing  it  in  the  night,  is  excel¬ 
lent  ;  and  it  leaves  room  for  the  delightful  beaming 
in,  of  a  special  and  peculiar  day  :  ‘Ye,  brethren,  are 
not  in  darkness,  that,  that  day  should  overtake  you 
as  a  thief’,  &c.  Observe,  how  exactly  historical  facts 
are  so  arranged,  as  to  accord  with  spiritual  things. 
We  are  told  in  Exodus,  that,  when  God  sent,  upon 
the  Egyptians,  darkness  that  might  be  felt,  though 
the  Egyptians  ‘  saw  not  one  another,  neither  rose  any 
from  his  place  for  three  days’,  yet  ‘  all  the  children 
of  Israel  had  light  in  their  dwellings.’  Thus,  even 
the  night  of  the  Christian,  is  better  than  this  world’s 
day.  Even  their  sobriety,  has  infinitely  more  hilarity 
in  it,  than  the  utmost  gaiety  of  those,  who  live  in 
pleasure ;  and  their  watchfulness,  is  that  of  those, 

‘  who  look  for  the  morning.’ 

I  greatly  like  your  quotation  from  iElian.  Dr. 


447 


Nash*  was  to  have  been  employed  yesterday  evening, 
in  tracing  the  meaning  of  a^ySeva)  :  but  what  the  re¬ 
sult  has  been,  I  cannot  yet  tell.  But  I  can  tell,  that 
he  was  much  pleased  with  your  letter  to  him.  My 
only  objection  to  iElian’s  quotation,  is,  that  it  inverts 
the  order;  Hierocles’  order  Apery  and  Axrfieiot,  ac¬ 
cords  accurately  with  the  method  pursued,  by  him, 
whom  he  explains ;  the  exoteric  first,  then  the  eso¬ 
teric.  But  Horace,  who,  I  conceive,  had  exactly  the 
same  thought  in  his  view,  may  be  charged  with  the 
same  inversion. 

Quid  verum  atque  decens  euro  et  rogo,  et  omnis  in  hoc  sum.f 

On  another  occasion,  however,  he  hits  more  strictly 
on  the  right  order. 

Curvo  dignoscere  rectum , 

Atque  inter  sylvas  Academi  quaerere  verum.\ 

In  these  quotations,  I  may  be  fanciful ;  but,  be¬ 
yond  all  doubt,  the  Apery  and  A TiyQeia  of  Hierocles 
correspond,  to  the  exoteric,  and  esoteric,  of  Pytha¬ 
goras.  And  let  Dr.  M - say  what  he  may,  there 

is  a  wonderful  agreement  between  this  gradation,  and 
what  is  every  where  presenting  itself  in  the  gospel. 

Farewell.  Most  cordially  yours  always, 

Alex.  Knox. 

*  Richard  Herbert  Nash,  D.D.,  formerly  senior  Fellow  of  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  now  rector  of  Ardstraw,  diocese  of  Derry.  A  scholar  and  divine,  who 
deservedly  possessed,  and  justly  appreciates,  the  friendship  of  Bishop  Jebb.  .  .  Ed. 

t  ‘  Truth  and  propriety  I  seek  to  know, 

And  all  my  cares  on  this  research  bestow.’ 

j  ‘  The  curved  line  from  the  straight,  skilled  to  discern, 

And  truth  ’midst  Academus’  groves  to  learn.’ 


448 


4 


LETTER  LXXI. 
To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Sunday,  Nov.  6.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Instead  of  being  this  day  at  church,  I  have  been 
confined  to  my  room  ;  having  sprained  my  back  early 
last  week.  For  the  first  two  or  three  days,  the  pain 
was  intense  ;  but  it  is  now  much  abated  ;  and  I  hope 
very  soon  to  be  a  foot  again.  At  present,  I  wish  to 
enjoy  the  pleasure  of  conversing  with  you,  on  a  sub¬ 
ject  not  unsuitable  to  the  day. 

Your  hints  on  1  Peter  iv.  7*  which,  from  my  late 
accident,  have  arrived  quite  in  time,  were  truly  ac¬ 
ceptable  ;  and  I  hope  to  profit  by  them.  I  doubt, 
however,  whether  the  apostle  intended  a  night  scene  ; 
and  I  will  tell  you  my  reasons. 

1.  After  carefully  examining  more  than  twenty 
passages,  where  watchfulness  is  inculcated,  I  find 
that,  wherever  it  is  manifestly  opposed  to  sleep,  or 
connected  with  the  idea  of  night,  whether  literally  or 
spiritually,  one  or  other  of  the  verbs,  ygyyogsa),  and 
ccygi>7rv£cu,  is  uniformly  employed. 

2.  The  verb,  which,  in  this  passage,  we  translate 
‘watch’,  is  vr)<pco  :  for  both  the  literal,  and  figurative 
meaning  of  which,  see  Schleusner  and  Parkhurst.  It 
could  not  here  be  rendered,  ‘be  sober’;  that  transla¬ 
tion  being  pre-occupied  by  the  verb,  <rco<p%ovri(raTs ;  and 
perhaps  the  present  version  gives  the  meaning,  with  as 
much  precision,  as  the  nature  of  the  case  will  admit : 
1  Thess.  V.  6.  and  8.  aXAa  ygrjyogcofJLSV,  xcu  vr)<pa)fj.si/9 


449 


and  r^sig  8s  y/xs^oLg  ovrsg  vyfycopsv.  In  the  former  of 
these  verses,  vycpco  being  added  to  yg^yogeco,  must 
mean  something  distinct  from  mere  wakefulness,  and, 
therefore,  we  render  it,  4  be  sober’,  and  in  the  latter, 
this  duty,  whatever  it  be,  is  made  a  duty  of  the  day. 
2  Tim.  iv.  5,  cu  8s  vr}<ps  sv  ttolo-i.  Here,  I  am  dis¬ 
posed  to  think,  our  translators  give  a  wrong  render¬ 
ing  ;  it  being,  I  conceive,  the  apostle’s  meaning,  that 
St.  Timothy  should  oppose  the  soberness  ryg  otXrjGsiag, 
to  the  [xvGoi ,  spoken  of  in  the  preceding  verse. 
1  Pet.  i.  13.  Our  version  renders  vrjtpovrsg,  4  be  sober.’ 
1  Pet.  v.  8.  Here,  again,  we  have  the  two  verbs 
vrjtpa),  and  y^yo^sco,  and  am  I  fanciful  in  thinking 
there  is,  in  this  passage,  a  peculiar  beauty  and  pro¬ 
priety  ?  Our  adversary  the  devil  goes  about,  day 
and  night ;  therefore,  at  each  season,  we  should  be 
upon  our  guard.  By  day,  vyypars,  be  sober ;  and 
by  night,  ygrjyogyo-oLTs,  be  wakeful. 

3.  Your  idea,  4  take  time  from  your  sleep  for  devo¬ 
tion’,  is  no  less  scriptural,  than  it  is  both  beautiful 
and  important.  What  fine  practical  illustrations  of 
it  are  in  the  Psalms  ;  and,  in  the  New  Testament, 
we  have  it  clearly,  St.  Matt.  xxvi.  41.  ygyyogsiTs,  koli 
7r$oG-su%s(r6s»  And  St.  Mark  xiii.  33.  aypu7rvsiTs,  koli 
7 r$oo-su%s6-Qs.  And  more  expressly.  Col.  iv.  l2.  ry 

7T^0(rsi)^ry  7tqo(Tkolqtsqsits9  ypyyoqouvTsg  SV  OLOTy,  sv  su%ol- 

qktticl.  And  most  beautiful  of  all,  Eph.  vi.  18.  8ia 
TroLO-yg  7T^o(rsv^rjg  koli  8sr)(rsa)g  ttqocew^o^svoi  sv  ttolvti 
kouqco  ev  Y1vsu[j.olti,  koli  sig  oloto  tovto  OLyQU7rvovVTsg,  sv 
7T0L(Ty  7Tg0<rKCLgTSgr)0-Sl9  KOLI  8sr\(TSly  &c.,  but  I  doubt  it 

does  not  apply  to  1  Pet.  iv.  7*  I  feel  as  if  the  text 
could  be  best  managed,  by  reversing  the  order.  This, 
Archbishop  Leighton  has  done  aliquatenus  ;  prayer, 
is  manifestly  the  terminus  ad  quern,  the  end  of  the 

VOL.  I.  G  G 


450 


exhortation  ;  watchfulness  the  habitual  attention,  to 
every  thing  within  and  without,  which  is  essential  to 
right  devotion  ;  (raxpgoo-uvr j,  the  state  of  mind  and 
heart,  which  is  to  produce  this  habitual  attention  ; 
and  the  conviction,  that  the  end  of  all  things  is  at 
hand,  is  the  grand  motive  ;  the  weight,  which  is  to 
set  all  in  motion.  In  this  arrangement,  you  will  ob¬ 
serve,  that  I  have  aimed  at  being  more  systematic 
and  consecutive  than  Leighton  ;  but  very  probably 
I  may,  after  all,  be  wrong. 

Taking  it,  however,  in  this  view,  I  would,  I.  enter 
at  once,  on  the  subject  of  prayer ;  its  usefulness,  its 
excellence,  its  happiness.  Such  being  the  value  and 
pleasure  of  devotion,  would  we  not  imagine  that  all 
must  abound  in  prayer?  The  fact,  however,  is  di¬ 
rectly  the  reverse :  various  impediments,  within  and 
without ;  hence,  the  necessity  of  II.  watching  unto 
prayer  ;  that  is,  of  vigilantly  guarding  against  what¬ 
ever  is  unfriendly  to  devotion  ;  of  viewing  every 
thing,  with  a  reference  to  the  effect  it  is  likely  to 
have  on  our  prayers.  This  watchfulness  respecting, 
not  merely  things  wrong  in  themselves,  but  things 
innocent,  useful,  laudable  ;  perilous  licitis.  What  was 
it  that  kept  the  guests,  in  the  parable,  from  the  supper  ? 
aypov  riyofOLfru,  %<=uyr)  fiocuv  7]yo^a.(ra  7tsvts,  yuvaixoL  syr}[Aa. 
What  then  is  the  remedy  ?  Are  we  to  renounce  these 
things?  By  no  means,  but, 

O l  i^ovriq  yvva.iY.at;,  aq  py  t^ovreq  u<ri, 

Kai  ol  vCkaiovitq,  a;  pr)  YAaiovrsq, 

Kai  ol  y^aioovTtq,  a;  [Ay  ^aioovTEq, 

Kat  ol  ayopa^ov TEq,  dcq  juv;  xaT£%ov req, 

Kat  ol  xoajjLEVoi  ra  Yocry.a  tout®,  wq  \x'i j  YaTaxpufXEvoi.* 


*  I  Cor.  vii.  29,  30,  31. 


451 


III.  This  is  the  remedy  ;  and  this  is,  precisely,  the 
(raxppovrjo-oLTs  of  the  text;  that  is,  a  sound  judgment, 
a  sober  estimate  of  all  things,  not  merely  in  the  head, 
but  in  the  heart.  And  what  practical  conviction 
will  most  effectually  produce  this  judgment  and  esti¬ 
mate  ?  The  text  tells  us,  IV.  ‘  The  end  of  all  things, 
is  at  hand.’  You  know  what  can  be  said  in  this 
branch  ;  and  it  seems  peculiarly  favourable  for  a 
peroration,  that  may  apply,  and  enforce,  the  whole  of 
what  has  been  said,  throughout  the  entire  sermon. 

I  am  far  from  being  sure  that  my  arguments, 
against  the  text  being  a  night-piece,  are  valid.  But 
the  truth  is,  I  shrink  from  taking  that  view  of  the 
subject ;  having  already  given  it  in  two  or  three  ser¬ 
mons,  all  preached,  more  than  once,  in  Cashel.  And 
I  wish,  if  possible,  to  break  new  ground.  I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  have  your  thoughts,  on  the  proposed 
plan.  Do  not  fear  to  object,  for  I  shall  have  time 
to  act  on  your  suggestions,  as  the  Archbishop  intends 
holding  a  confirmation  next  Sunday ;  a  sermon  for 
which  must,  in  the  first  instance,  be  prepared ;  and 
the  present  subject  must  lie  over,  at  least,  till  to¬ 
morrow  sennight. 


Monday  morning, 

P.S.  I  thank  you  for  your  beautiful  quotation  from 
Casimir :  let  me  try  to  repay  you  with  another,  from 
the  same  poet. 

....  Cinis  sequat  omnes, 

Et  urna,  quae  nos  colligit,  omnium 
Mensura  rerum  est;  demitte  sarcinas, 

Grandemque  fortunam  lacerto,  et 
Solliciti  grave  pondus  auri, 

G  G  2 


452 


Dum  nonoiiustus,  sed  moriar  mens : 

Jam  nunc  perennes  divitias  mihi 
Nil  concupiscendo  paravi, 

Nil  nimium  metuendo,  pacem.* 

Is  not  this  something  very  nearly  approaching  to 
(rco(ppo(njvr)  ?  It  is,  indeed,  infinitely  less  poetical, 
than  your  exquisite  passage  ;  but  it  is  surely  rich  in 
moral  sentiment.  I  dare  say,  the  whole  of  this  ode, 
the  xvith,  2d  book,  may  be  much  more  familiar  to 
you,  than  it  is  to  me.  But  our  taste  must  differ 
more  widely,  than  I  am  willing  to  imagine,  if,  on 
taking  down  your  little  Casimir,  and  giving  the  en¬ 
tire  poem  a  re-perusal,  you  will  think  your  time  mis¬ 
employed.  Some  stanzas  remind  me,  at  once,  of 
Horace’s  ‘Otium  Divos  ’,  and  of  that  beautiful  chorus 
in  Seneca’s  Thyestes,  the  close  of  which,  you  know. 
Sir  M.  Hale,  and  Andrew  Marvel  have  imitated.  A 
propos,  have  you  seen  Seneca  the  tragedian  ?  If  not, 
I  have  an  Elzivir  edition  of  him  entirely  at  your 
service  ;  by  accepting  which  you  will  oblige  me. 

The  postponement  of  your  visit  is  a  sad  disappoint¬ 
ment.  We  had  all  been  anticipating  it  with  delight. 
But  I  am  well  convinced,  that  these  matters  are  or¬ 
dered  for  us,  far  better  than  we  could  order  them 


*  *  The  dust,  in  which  we  all  must  lie, 
Shall  bring  us  to  equality 
And  all  things  earthly  hold  : 

Then  lay  thine  anxious  load  aside, 

The  world’s  Vain  pomp,  ambition’s  pride, 
And  that  dead  weight  of  gold. 

Unclogged,  unladen,  I  would  die, 

Like  spirit  born  to  scale  the  sky  : 

And,  till  my  life  shall  cease. 

Safe  in  a  well-contented  mind, 

By  seeking  nothing,  rest  I  find  ; 

By  fearing  nothing,  peace.* 


453 


ourselves ;  and  therefore,  I,  too,  am  cheerfully  ac¬ 
quiescent.  Major — — ,  who  came  here  on  Saturday, 
and  sat  with  me  an  hour  last  night,  is  a  sharer  in  our 
regret ;  as  he  had  hoped  to  have  seen  you  at  N.  B. 

and  in  K - .  What  a  deep,  sound,  and  efficient 

man  is  this !  What  weight  must  he  have,  and  what 
good  must  he  do,  in  a  regiment,  every  officer  of 
which,  but  two,  he  was  able  to  keep  entirely  aloofi 

from  all  the  dissipation  of  K - !  This  appears 

to  me  a  new  thing  in  the  earth  ;  and  I  must  honestly 
own,  that  had  I  been  in  his  situation,  1  should  neither 
have  had  enterprize,  nor  energy,  nor  discretion 
enough,  to  effect  such  a  revolution  among  a  body  of 
officers.  The  major  gives  a  very  pleasing  account  of 

- .  He  is  wonderfully  tolerant  and  catholic  for  a 

calvinist ;  and  by  no  means  anxious  to  force  or  in¬ 
trude  his  own  opinions,  upon  other  people,  not  so 

- .  He  has  been  very  zealous  in  his  efforts  to 

make  converts  from  our  diocese  ;  having  fruitlessly 

attempted  both - and - .  He  told  the  latter, 

that  you  are  ruining  and  perverting  the  diocese  of 
Cashel.  I  am  happy  to  say,  that  every  one  of  our 
clergy,  hope  and  trust  you  will  continue  the  infec¬ 
tion. 

I  was  much  obliged,  and  gratified  by  the  books. 
When  they  arrived,  I  was  keeping  my  bed.  Imme¬ 
diately  I  entered  upon  the  life  of  Winter,  which  I 
soon  read  through.  What  a  contrast  to  the  piece  of 
biography  you  brought  me,  this  time  twelvemonth. 
Yet  this  man  and  Robinson,  began  their  career,  under 
the  same  auspices.  Assuredly,  Winter  was  amongst 
the  most  amiable,  the  most  pious,  the  most  catholic, 
and  the  least  pragmatical,  of  calvinists.  The  leaves 
that  were  folded  down,  did  not  afford  me  the  least 
gratification,  (I  have  caught  myself  in  an  ambiguous 

g  g  3 


454 


phrase,  but  you  will  know  how  to  interpret  it ;)  and 
I  was  pleased,  especially,  and  I  hope  instructed,  by 
some  sensible  observations  on  preaching  and  compo¬ 
sition.  My  back  now  warns  me  to  conclude. 

Yours  most  truly, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  64. 
To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb . 


Dawson  St.,  Nov.  9.  1808.  6  P.M. 

My  dear  Friend, 

J  received  your  much  valued  letter  this  day,  and 
will  attend  to  the  memorial. 

I  quite  agree  with  your  remarks  on  vrj^ars:  and 
the  truth  is  I  forgot,  though,  for  a  reason  I  could  show 
you,  I  ought  to  have  remembered  that  that  was  the 
word.  I  talked  on  the  supposition  of  its  being 
ypyyopEiTE,  or  aypu7rvetTE.  To  what  you  say,  therefore, 
on  this  point,  I  wholly  accord. 

But  I  own  to  you,  I  do  not  subscribe  equally  to 
the  inversion  ;  as  it  does  not  strike  me  to  be  the 
order  of  nature.  What  is  ultimate,  comes  first. 
This,  most  surely  is,  fi  the  end  of  all  things/  There 
must  be  something  to  make  us  sober,  some  fact 
naturally  impressive.  Such  is,  the  end  of  all  things  ; 
accordingly,  St.  Peter  says,  ‘  be  ye  therefore  sober  ’, 
or,  as  you  say  it,  ‘  the  end,  &c.  is  the  grand  motive, 
the  weight  of  which  is  to  set  all  in  motion* ;  or  as 
Gale  quotes  from  Plato,  ocp^iTsxrovixou  rsT^og  rcov  ovtcov, 
I,  therefore,  would  certain] v  not  reverse  the  order. 

1/ 


4>55 


(  The  end  of  all  things’,  in  addition  to  all  these  autho¬ 
rities,  being  far  more  directly  intelligible,  than  prayer ; 
and  some  good  portion  of  a-ayfypocruv rj,  being  necessary, 
to  make  persons  understand  what  would  be  said  on 
the  subject  of  prayer.  This,  then,  I  conceive,  is  not 
so  properly  the  terminus  ad  quern,  though,  of  vy\po its 
specially,  it  may  be,  as  it  is  itself  a  means  ;  the  illative 
force  of  the  therefore ,  extending  to  this,  as  really,  as 
to  any  thing  before  it.  The  natural  order,  therefore, 
seems  to  be,  1.  The  impressive  announcement,  or 
rather  urging  and  illustrating  of  the  incontestable 
fact.  2.  The  immediate  induction  ‘  be  ye  therefore 
sober.’  3.  The  reducing  this  general  feeling  to 
proper  practice,  4  watch  unto  prayer’,  which  is,  in  a 
word,  devotional  seriousness ;  an  habitual  commerce 
with  divine,  and  eternal  objects ;  never  losing  sight 
of  them  ;  often  spontaneously  turning  the  thoughts 
to  them ;  and,  at  every  due  season,  rising  into  direct 
contemplation  of',  and  converse  with,  God.  I  must 
stop  here,  as  I  have  more  to  say,  and  little  time 
remaining. 

I  thank  you  for  the  passage  from  Casimir ;  it  is 
fully  what  you  state.  If  the  major  be  still  with  you, 
my  most  cordial  love  to  him. 

I  like,  your  liking  the  good  Winter.  The  truth 
is,  the  church  bell,  which  he  had  listened  to  in  his 
childhood,  was  never  wholly  out  of  his  ears. 

I  trust  (confidently  indeed)  that  — —  will  not  be 

too  fond  of  any - man.  I  am  sure - is  a 

good-minded  pious  Christian  ;  but  their  errors  are 
ever,  and  in  all  circumstances,  a  comparative  blight, 
to  the  mind  that  imbibes  them.  They  are,  to  rightly 
informed  Christians,  what  salted  meat  is  to  fresh. 
Putrefication  is  escaped,  but  the  native  flavour  is 


gone. 


g  g  4 


456 


Mr. - ,  says  of  me,  what,  on  his  principles,  I 

most  fully  deserve ;  therefore  I  have  no  ground  for 
the  shadow  of  displeasure. 

Ever  vours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  LXXII. 

To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 

Cashel,  Nov.  30.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  do  not  wish  to  let  this  month  close,  without  offer¬ 
ing  some  answer  to  your  last  kind  and  valuable 
letter.  What  you  said  on  the  text,  was  to  me  con¬ 
clusive  :  but  alas,  indisposition  prevented  me  from 
acting  upon  it.  Meanwhile,  I  have  not  been  wholly 
precluded  from  employment,  of  an  interesting,  and  I 
hope,  not  unimproving  nature.  My  *  special  place- 
book’,  has  been  enriched  with  many  passages,  illustra¬ 
tive  of  our  Christian  philosophy ;  and  I  have  been 
much  gratified  by  reading  Gregory  Nazianzen  and 
St.  Basil.  The  former  is  far  more  of  a  platonist  than 
I  had  imagined ;  and  though  from  many  things,  it 
appears,  that  he  had  not  his  naturally  ardent  temper 
under  the  best  regulation,  his  aspirings,  still,  were 
truly  sublime  :  whilst  he  felt,  at  heart,  a  deep  humility ; 
or,  that  I  may  borrow  from  his  own  panegyric  on  St. 
Athanasius,  he  was  t/\pr)7iog  [xsv  roig  spyoig,  ronreivog  $e 
no  ovr) [molt i.  As  to  S.  Basil,  I  have  it  in  actual  con¬ 
templation  to  make  a  sermon  out  of  one  of  his  dis¬ 
courses.  This,  I  think,  is  to  be  done,  partly,  by  free 


457 


translation,  with  considerable  omissions;  partly,  by 
exfoliating  ideas,  that  are  like  rose-buds  ;  and  partly, 
by  following  any  tolerable  train  of  thought,  that  may 
be  suggested  to  my  own  mind.  On  many  accounts, 
a  close  version  would  not  suit  our  pulpits  :  but,  if  I 
succeed  in  this  attempt,  I  know  not  whether  it  may 
not  open  to  me  a  new,  a  pleasant,  and  a  useful  field 
of  exertion. 

Many  thanks  for  your  good  care  of  me,  as  to 
books.  The  assortment  reached  me  in  perfectly 
good  condition,  and  a  high  treat  it  is.  At  leisure 
hours,  I  have  read,  with  singular  interest  and  de¬ 
light,  the  first  vol.  of  H.  K.  White.  I  have  also 
read  the  Life,  prefixed  to  Robinson’s  miscellaneous 
works.  What  a  turbulent,  restless,  I  had  almost 
said,  terrific  spirit,  has  got  among  these  general 
baptists  I  We  live  in  strange  times ;  and  may  see 
stranger  things  than  we  have  yet  seen. 

The  more  I  reflect  on  the  modes  of  reading  and 
thinking,  and  the  kind,  also,  of  business,  into  which 
I  have  been  gradually,  and  without  any  plan  of  my 
own,  led  forward ;  as  well  as  the  very  trying  incapa¬ 
citations,  to  which  I  have  been  made  subject ;  the 
more  soberly,  I  think,  that  mine  is  to  be  rather  a 
non-descript  function,  than  any  ostensible  routine  of 
duty.  My  brother  clergy  come  to  me  for  inform¬ 
ation,  and  I  lecture  them ;  arrangements  are  desire- 
able,  and  I  sometimes  plan  them ;  and,  besides,  I 
am  engaged  in  a  sort  of  study  and  research,  which, 
weak  as  I  am,  I  may  venture  to  say,  no  clergyman 
in  the  province,  besides,  can  pursue.  If  it  pleases 
God  to  spare  my  life,  then  my  little  avocations  may 
come  to  tell ;  but  they  cannot  be  followed,  unless 
there  be  a  stated  preacher  here ;  and  if  his  appoint¬ 
ment  do  not  take  place,  I  fear  that  I  must  give  up,. 


458 


what  I  see  proceeding  satisfactorily,  without  effecting 
the  object  of  this  relinquishment :  for  I  am  per¬ 
suaded,  that  neither  my  health,  nor  my  powers, 
qualify  me  for  a  stated  working  preacher ;  whilst  I 
feel,  that,  by  preaching  to  my  brother  clergy,  in  my 
own  room,  I  may  be  made  the  instrument  of  good  to 
many  parishes.  The  other  matter  which  I  had  to 
mention,  is  comparatively  of  slight  importance ;  and 
may,  therefore,  well  stand  over.  If  I  talk  unreason¬ 
ably,  set  me  right.  If  otherwise,  I  know  you  will  be 
disposed  to  help  me.  By  thus  speaking  what  I  feel, 
4  liberavi  animam  meanT  ;  and  whatever  may  be  the 
result,  I  am  sure  it  will  be  most  kindly  and  wisely 
ordered,  by  the  kindest  and  wisest  of  Beings, 

I  have  found  two  passages  in  Aristotle’s  Nicoma- 
chian  Ethics,  and  one  in  Ephrem  Syrus,  which  throw 
a  light  on  aXrjBeusiv.  No  lexicographer  or  comment¬ 
ator,  to  whom  I  have  access,  has  noticed  them :  at 
a  future  day,  if  you  wish  it,  I  will  send  them,  with 
a  few  observations.  Excuse  incoherences,  for  I  have 
written  fast,  my  first  thoughts,  in  the  first  words  that 
presented  themselves.  Without  making  excuses. 
Your  most  obliged  and  affectionate, 

John  Jebb. 

P.  S.  My  kindest  regards  to  Miss  Fergusson. 


459 


LETTER  65. 
To  the  Rev .  J.  Jehh . 


Dawson  St.,  Dec.  3.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  received  your  most  acceptable  letter  this  morn¬ 
ing  ;  and  it  gives  me  sincere  pleasure,  that  my  random 
dispatch  of  books  was  not  unpleasant  to  you.  I  think 
it  necessary  to  be  well  acquainted  with  the  very  worst 
that  can  be  said,  of  the  ground  we  take  ;  and  beyond 
Robinson,  we  need  not  go.  His  memoir  of  Saurin, 
and  of  Claude,  are,  in  my  mind,  interesting ;  espe¬ 
cially  the  latter.  Do  you  observe,  how  studiously 
he  calls  the  French  roman  catholics,  episcopal ;  as  if 
to  identify  us  with  them.  I  only  say,  be  it  so,  4  Hoc 
juvat,  et  melli  est/  I  am  conscious  of  as  real  reformed 
feelings,  as  any  one ;  but,  most  deliberately,  I  prize 
what  the  church  of  Rome  possesses,  so  deeply,  as  to 
make  me  prefer  their  religion  to  sectarianism,  in 
whatever  plausible  form  the  latter  may  appear. 

You  and  I  greatly  agree  about  St.  Basil.  I  was 
amused  at  reading  what  you  said,  just  after  having 
spent  an  hour,  in  finishing  the  reading  of  his  homily 
on  humility ;  and  having  felt,  while  I  read,  a  wish  to 
translate  that  discourse  into  English.  I  cordially 
agree  with  all  you  say ;  and  do  think  such  a  study, 
as  you  speak  of,  most  likely  to  be  useful.  I  have 
little  doubt,  but  that,  among  other  causes  of  the  ro¬ 
man  catholic  religion  being  kept  up,  one  grand  one 
is,  the  reverence  they  (perhaps  too  devotedly)  feel, 
for  the  character  and  writings  of  the  ancient  fathers. 


460 


What  modern  protestants,  except  odd  geniuses,  like 
yourself  and  myself,  think  of  the  fathers  ?  Neither 
you  nor  I  would  bow  down  to  the  fathers ;  but  to  de¬ 
preciate  and  vilify  them,  as  certain  protestants  have 
done,  is  a  very  infatuated  course.  For,  if  we  are 
built  on  the  foundation  of  the  apostles  and  prophets, 
we  are  also  built  on  the  intermediate  ranges  ;  and, 
though  the  foundation  should  be  ever  so  sure,  that 
would  not  stand  us  in  stead,  if  bad  materials  came  in 
between  us  and  the  foundation ;  for  the  dissolution 
of  these,  would  be  our  downfall. 

I  beg  you  to  observe,  in  the  passage  just  referred 
to,  how  appositely  our  Saviour  calls  himself,  ‘  the  chief 
corner  stone.5  Thus,  you  perceive,  the  building  is  to 
have  two  fronts  ;  what  are  these,  but  the  literal,  and 
the  typical  ? 

I  hope  I  have  made  no  gross  mistake,  for  I  cannot 
read  my  letter.  I  can  only  add,  I  am  ever  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  LXXIII. 

To  A,  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Dec.  3.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

How  could  I  possibly  suspect  you  of  negligence? 
Assuredly,  I  had  been  accusing  myself  as  the  de¬ 
faulter;  and  nothing,  short  of  indisposition,  could 
have  kept  me  so  long  silent.  That  still  continues ; 
for  I  have  not  been  once  out  of  doors,  since  last  sun- 


461 


-'Wt 


day  ;  but,  though  not  either  very  able,  or  willing, 
just  at  present,  to  hold  converse  with  the  old  gentle¬ 
men  in  folio,  it  is  a  cordial  to  talk  awhile  with  you. 

The  subject  that  engages  you,  is  very  important ; 
and  such  remarks  as  you  would  make,  must  be  sea¬ 
sonable,  and  may  prove  signally  useful.  When  such 
wild  opinions  are  abroad,  and,  I  fear,  rapidly  diffusing 
themselves,  it  is  surely  most  desirable  to  put  people 
on  their  guard ;  and  to  provide  them  with  such  de¬ 
fensive  weapons,  as  reason,  philosophy,  and  Scripture 
will  supply.  I  therefore  most  cordially  wish  you 
good  speed.  Your  matter,  as  I  am  sure  it  always 
does,  will  both  please  and  instruct  me  ;  and,  as  to  the 
composition,  I  am  not  apprehensive.  Only  write  as 
you  did  to  Walker,  and  you  may  set  criticism  at 
defiance.  The  main  point  is,  perspicuity ;  this,  I 
have  sometimes  thought  you  a  little  lost  sight  of,  in 
your  anxiety  for  discriminative  precision.  The  latter, 
I  would  by  no  means  sacrifice,  in  a  single  instance  ; 
but  I  would  wish  always  to  effect  it,  salva  perspi- 
cuitate.  And  to  this  point,  I  think  all,  or  almost  all 
the  critical,  perhaps  too  often,  hypercritical  observ¬ 
ations  of  mine,  which  you  have  had  the  indulgent 
patience  to  tolerate,  were  especially  directed.  Invo¬ 
lution  of  periods,  and  a  multitude  of  particles,  are,  I 
conceive,  to  be  guarded  against ;  but  any  thing  like 
scrupulous  solicitude,  I  cannot  wish  for.  I  have  been 
too  great  a  sufferer  by  it,  in  my  own  small  efforts. 
On  the  whole,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  that,  if  you 
proceed  in  the  way  most  natural  and  easy  to  your¬ 
self,  you  will  produce  a  valuable  publication. 

I  have  already  thanked  you  for  the  books ;  and  I 
see  no  cause  to  retract.  Robinson  is  peculiarly  such 
a  work,  as  I  ought  not  to  be  without.  As  to  Crabbe, 
your  decision  was  critically  right.  He  is,  indeed, 


462 


sometimes  very  offensive ;  especially  in  the  third  part 
of  his  ‘Parish  Register’  ;  and,  as  he  professes  to  have 
yielded  such  implicit  obedience,  one  cannot  help  re¬ 
gretting,  that  he  did  not  make  choice  of  some  purer 
censor,  than  Charles  James  Fox ;  who,  in  two  glaring 
passages  of  his  historical  fragment,  has  recorded  for 
posterity  the  looseness  of  his  sentiments.  Crabbe  is, 
however,  on  the  whole,  well  worth  having  ;  he  is  so 
far  removed  from  the  sentimental  singsong,  and  the 
inflated  bombast  of  the  day.  That  singularly  wild 
production,  Sir  Eustace  Grey,  is  wrought  up  to  a 
wondrous  pitch  of  the  <r$o8gov  tcoli  svQovo-iomttixov  7raQogt 

Yesterday,  I  had  a  visit  from - ,  and  his  brother, 

a  young  officer  of  marines,  entirely  self-taught,  and 
evidently  possessing  an  ingenious  and  reflecting  mind. 
But  he  has  no  less  evidently  injured  himself,  by  a 
turn  for  metaphysical  paradox  ;  for  that  sort  of  acute¬ 
ness,  which  loves  to  disport  itself  in  the  regions  of 
unintelligibility.  Feeling  myself  by  no  means  well, 
I  waved  all  merely  abstract  reasoning  ;  but  still 
thought  it  right  to  engage  in  such  talk,  as  gave  me  a 
headache,  and  produced  no  slight  degree  of  nervous 
agitation  ;  after  he  left  me,  my  whole  frame  was  in  a 
state  of  tremulousness,  the  pure  effect  of  exertion  ; 
for  no  conversation  could  be  less  impassioned.  I  am 
repaid,  however,  for  any  temporary  uneasiness ;  for 
he  listened  with  attention,  and  replied  with  candour, 
while  I  placed  before  him  some  novel  considerations  ; 
and  I  have  since  learned  from  his  brother,  that  he 
was  greatly  interested,  and  declares,  that  he  never 
heard  religion  put  in  such  a  light  before. 

Amongst  other  matters,  I  recommended  a  pro¬ 
cedure,  which  had  never  before  occurred  to  him. 
First,  by  a  few  solid  arguments,  to  establish  his  belief 
in  the  genuineness  and  authenticity  of  the  Scriptures  5 


463 


and,  till  this  should  be  effected,  not  to  puzzle  him¬ 
self  with  difficulties;  afterwards,  when  difficulties  do 
occur,  to  recollect,  that  he  has  already  proved  the 
Scripture,  to  be  the  word  of  God  :  and  to  be  cautious 
of  investigating  those  difficulties,  in  the  way  of  ab¬ 
stract  reasoning ;  it  being  generally  indispensable,  to 
have  reference  to  the  wants,  the  feelings,  the  circum¬ 
stances,  and  the  history  of  human  nature.  I  strongly 
protested  against  examining  in  the  abstract,  and 
a  priori,  any  recorded  fact  of  God’s  providential  deal¬ 
ings,  or  principle  of  his  divine  administration  ;  it 
being  ever  necessary,  to  consider  the  subjects  to  be 
acted  upon,  to  inquire,  not  what  would  be  best  in 
theory,  but  best,  as  suited  to  the  condition  of  man¬ 
kind.  I  suggested,  that  probably,  in  many  cases, 
there  may  have  been  a  reference,  in  the  Divine  mind, 
to  other  intelligences,  invisibly,  but  really,  connected 
with  our  system.  I  said,  that,  for  my  own  part,  were 
a  difficulty  to  occur  to  me,  I  should  give  it  a  proper 
share  of  consideration  ;  and,  if  unsuccessfully,  I 
should  then  quietly  turn  my  mind  to  something  else ; 
satisfied,  if  it  be  matter  of  fact,  that  what  God  does, 
must  be  right :  if  of  doctrine, . .  that  nothing,  which  is 
really  the  doctrine  of  Scripture,  can  be  in  opposition 
to  the  real  character  of  God  :  that  difficulties  have 
been  left,  for  the  wise  and  gracious  purpose,  of  sharp¬ 
ening  human  industry,  and  rewarding  human  exertion ; 
that  the  solution  of  that,  or  this,  express  difficulty, 
may  be  reserved  for  some  future  period  ;  it  being  the 
divine  plan,  in  revelation,  as  in  the  providential  course 
of  things  in  the  physical  and  scientific  world,  not  to 
discover  all,  at  once  ;  but  to  assign,  to  each  age,  its 
proper  discovery,  which  shall  be  most  nicely  adjusted 
to  the  existing  state  of  things ;  and  most  happily  sub¬ 
servient  to  the  progress,  in  the  one  case,  of  civil  so- 


464 


ciety,  in  the  other,  of  divine  truth.  Lastly,  that  the 
knot  which  I  cannot  even  cut,  others  may  untie  with 
ease ;  and  that  there  are  ultimate  truths,  far  above 
human  ken,  concerning  which,  wise  men  have  said, 
that  to  be  willingly  ignorant,  is  the  highest  wisdom. 
Here  I  had  in  view,  a  fine  epigram  of  Grotius,  and 
some  noble  lines  from  Scaliger  ;  neither  of  which  will 
be  burthensome  to  me  to  transcribe,  nor  to  you,  I 
trust,  to  read.  And  first  for  Grotius. 

Qui  curiosus  postulat  totum  suae 
Patere  menti,  ferre  qui  non  sufficit 
Mediocritatis  conscientiam  suae, 

Judex  iniquus,  aestimator  est  malus, 

Suique,  naturaeque  ;  nam  rerum  parens, 

Libanda  tantum  quae  venit  mortalibus, 

Nos  scire  pauca,  multa  mirari  jubet. 

Nec  primus  error  est  pejoribus  : 

Nam  qui  fateri  nil  potest  incognitum, 

Falso,  necesse  est,  placet  ignorantiam. 

Magis  quiescet  animus,  errabit  minus, 

Contentus  eruditione  parabili ; 

Nec  quaesit  illam,  si  qua  quaerentum  pigit ; 

NeSCIRE  QUiEDAM,  MAGNA  PARS  SAPIENTIiE  EST.* 


*  ‘  The  man  who,  curious,  seeks  to  know 
What  mortal  minds  must  still  forego, 
Who  cannot  bear  to  feel  and  see 
His  conscious  mediocrity,  .  . 

With  erring  thought,  and  earthly  skill. 
Himself  and  nature  judges  ill : 

For  mortal  minds  may  only  taste 
The  mysteries  beyond  them  placed  ; 

And  it  is  nature’s  great  command 
To  wonder  more  than  understand. 

Nor  the  mistake  in  order  first, 

Or  gravest  is,  or  ’mongst  the  worst : 

He  to  whom  nothing  seems  unknown, 
May  hail  blind  ignorance  his  own ; 
While  minds  content  with  knowing  less, 
Best  knowledge,  and  most  peace  possess  ; 


465 


And  now  for  Scaliger. 

Ne  curiosus,  quaere  causas  omnium 
Quaecunque  libris  vis  prophetarum  indidit 
Adflata  ccelo,  plena  veraci  Deo  ; 

Nec  operta  sacra  supparo  silentii 
Irrumpere  aude,  sed  prudenter  praeteri : 

Nescire  velle,  quae  Magister  optimus 
Docere  non  vult,  erudita  inscitia  est.* * 

Thus  say  Grotius  and  Scaliger ;  and,  assuredly, 
neither  of  them  were  enemies  to  free  inquiry. 

In  the  course  of  our  conversation,  Capt. - hap¬ 

pened  to  observe,  that  the  Unitarian  views  on  the  sub¬ 
ject  of  atonement,  appeared  to  him  more  consistent 
with  divine  benevolence,  than  the  orthodox  opinion. 
This  naturally  led  to  a  statement  of  our  way  of  think¬ 
ing  :  embracing  the  consideration,  both  of  God’s 
moral  government,  as  providing  for  the  well-being  of 
innumerable  orders  of  intelligencies ;  and,  of  his  gra¬ 
cious  accommodation  of  the  great  scheme,  to  the 
wants  and  weaknesses  of  man.  My  mode  of  talking 
on  this  latter  topic,  I  wish  to  submit  to  you ;  for  the 
purpose  of  knowing,  whether  it  accords  with  what  I 
have  heard,  and,  I  would  hope,  imbibed  from  you. 

I  laid  it  down  as  a  principle,  that,  wherever  the 


4  Seeking  to  know  what  pleases  known, 

What  irks,  they  wisely  let  alone  : 

Rest  then  content,  convinced  within  thine  heart, 
Not  to  know  all,  is  wisdom’s  greatest  part.’ 

*  4  Seek  not  the  cause,  for  ’tis  not  in  thy  reach, 

Of  all  the  truths  prophetic  volumes  teach  ; 
Those  *  secret  things’  imparted  from  on  high, 
Which  speak,  at  once,  and  veil  the  Deity ; 

Pass  on :  nor  rash  explore  the  depths  that  lie 
Divinely  hid  in  sacred  mystery  : 

Where  God  is  silent,  man  may  well  dispense 
With  knowledge . .  this  is  learned  ignorance.’ 

H  H 


VOL.  I. 


466 


good  God  adopts,  or  permits,  a  mode  of  procedure 
that  may,  at  first  view,  seem  productive  of  evil,  it  is 
for  the  purpose  of  keeping  out  some  worse  evil.  This 
being  premised,  I  argued,  from  a  variety  of  circum¬ 
stances,  but,  especially,  from  the  universal  prevalence 
of  sacrifice,  and  the  frequent  occurrence  of  human 
sacrifice,  that  there  exists  in  human  nature,  a  deep 
principle,  or  feeling  of  superstition ;  a  perturbed 
dread  of  some  superior,  powerful,  and  most  vindictive 
being  :  no  matter  whence  this  feeling,  at  first,  derived 
its  origin,  it  clearly  is  in  man.  This  being  the  case, 
was  it  not  worthy  of  the  supreme  wisdom,  of  a  su¬ 
premely  benignant  Being,  to  make  provision  for  the 
ultimate  extirpation  of  this  superstitious  horror;  as 
well  as  for  giving  it  the  least  injurious  direction  pos¬ 
sible,  till  things  were  ripe  for  the  great  remedy  ?  And 
what  can  be  conceived  more  adapted  to  this  twofold 
purpose,  than  the  fact  of  the  atonement ;  and  the  pre¬ 
parative  institution  of  sacrifice  ? 

Sacrifice,  among  the  patriarchs,  was  of  divine  ap¬ 
pointment.  In  after  times,  it  passed,  at  the  great 
dispersion,  from  the  patriarchal  posterity,  to  the  dif¬ 
ferent  nations.  And  whilst,  among  the  Jews,  it 
received  peculiar  modifications,  from  the  law  of  God 
himself;  we  find,  that,  among  the  more  civilized 
gentiles,  animal  sacrifice  afforded  the  great  vent,  or 
outlet,  to  that  superstition,  which  would,  otherwise, 
have  internally  preyed  upon  individuals,  and  pro¬ 
duced  horrors,  from  the  very  imagination  of  which, 
the  heart  recoils.  Among  people  less  civilized,  or 
rather  more  savage,  the  frightful  malignity  of  the  su¬ 
perstitious  principle  was  evinced,  by  human  sacrifice  ; 
by  the  most  unnatural,  and  atrocious  of  all  human 
sacrifices,  ‘  the  fruit  of  their  bodies,  for  the  sin  of  their 
souls. ,  And  by  this  we  are  given  to  see,  what  super¬ 
stition  might,  nay  probably  what  it  must  have  led  to, 


467 


not  merely  in  exempt  cases,  but  in  a  most  numerous 
class  of  minds,  had  it  not  been  for  the  divine  expe¬ 
dient  of  animal  sacrifice. 

But  not  to  speak  of  typical  purposes,  this  further 
end  was  answered  ;  that  the  fears  of  men,  .  .  of  Gen¬ 
tiles,  no  less  than  Jews,  . .  having  been  taught  to  move 
in  this  direction  ;  to  vent  themselves,  if  I  may  so 
speak,  through  the  channel  of  sacrifice  ;  the  world 
was  thus  prepared  for  the  reception  of  that  great 
fact,  the  sacrifice  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ :  a  fact, 
which  was,  from  the  first,  designed  to  be  the  great 
remedy  for  superstition  ;  the  ultimate  exterminator 
of  all  such  horrors  as  shock  us,  in  the  volumes  of 
Csesar,  the  annals  of  Mexico,  and  the  living  manners 
of  Hindostan.  A  fact,  which,  wherever  its  belief 
has  obtained,  has  not  failed  of  producing  this  blessed 
effect ;  and  which,  in  the  nature  of  things,  must  be 
universal  in  its  operation,  inasmuch  as  it  is,  ‘  one  full, 
perfect,  and  sufficient  sacrifice,  oblation,  and  satisfac¬ 
tion,  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world.’ 

By  thus  putting  the  case,  I  conceive,  one  objec¬ 
tion  is  anticipated.  It  might  have  been  urged, 
c  You  say,  the  atonement  has  prevented  a  recurrence 
to  human  sacrifice.  But,  did  not  human  sacrifice 
arise  out  of  animal  sacrifice  ;  which  your  most  ortho¬ 
dox  divines,  not  only  admit,  but  argue  to  have  been 
of  divine  appointment?’  To  this  I  reply,  granted. 
But,  besides  that  human  sacrifice  is  the  abuse  of  an 
institution,  originally  merciful,  it  serves  only  to  show, 
in  their  utmost  deformity,  the  deep  malignity,  and 
the  atrocious  effects  of  superstition.  That  is,  in 
other  words,  it  lets  us  see,  to  what  enormities  the 
whole  class  of  superstitious  men,  . .  assuredly,  a  very 
large  proportion  of  the  human  race,  .  .  would  have 
resorted,  for  their  relief  from  a  state  of  most  per- 

h  h  2 


468 


turbed  anxiety,  had  not  some  expedient  been  de¬ 
vised  :  whilst  the  wise  choice,  and  the  happy  success, 
of  the  expedient  actually  employed,  are  abundantly 
evinced,  by  the  great  prevalence  of  animal  sacrifice, 
not  only  among  Jews,  but  among  Gentiles  :  and  whilst 
we  cannot  but  admire  the  fitness  of  this  system,  to 
prepare  the  feelings  of  mankind  for  the  reception  of 
that  grand  fact,  which  will  finally  cut  up  superstition 
by  the  roots.  It  remains  only  to  notice  the  wonderful 
fitness  of  the  fact  itself  to  counteract  the  evil  at  its 
utmost  height.  For,  if  men  thought  it  needful  ‘  to 
sacrifice  their  sons  and  daughters’,  ‘God,  also,  has 
spared  not  his  [own  son.’] 

(  Unfinished .) 


LETTER  66. 
To  the  Rev .  J .  Jehh . 


Bellevfte,  Dec.  14.  1808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

My  moving  hither,  and  being  ill  since,  have  made 
me  appear  to  verify  your  apprehension  of  overwhelm¬ 
ing  me  with  letters.  But  believe  me,  no  thought  could 
be  conceived  with  less  reason :  at  all  times,  and  on 
every  subject,  I  am  gratified  by  hearing  from  you ; 
and  I  particularly  wish  that  you  should,  on  every 
occasion,  do  as  you  did  in  your  last  letter ;  that  is, 
open  your  heart  to  me;  and,  as  far  as  lies  in  you, 
disburthen  it  of  whatever  does  not  add  to  its  comfort. 
I  must  be  interested  deeply,  by  whatever  interests 


469 


you ;  and,  where  feeling  is  concerned,  I  have  enough 
of  experience,  to  make  me  as  sympathetica!,  as  any 
honest  heart  can  wish. 

*  Haud  ignara  mali,  miseris  succurrere  disco.’  * 

You  have  given  me,  in  your  late  letters,  several 
interesting  things  to  advert  to;  but  I  must  touch 
but  briefly  on  any  of  them.  I  like  all  you  say,  about 
atonement  and  sacrifices ;  in  fact,  it  is  all  what  I 
think;  except,  merely,  that  I  feel  myself  at  a  loss,  as 
to  the  manner  of  their  appointment,  (i.e.  of  sacrifices). 
That  some  intimation  gave  rise  to  them,  I  am  sure  ; 
but  what  degree  of  distinctness  was  in  that  inti¬ 
mation,  I  do  not  know.  For  example,  I  know  not 
that  Cain’s  offering  would  have  had  any  fault  in  it, 
if  he  had  done  well :  that  is,  I  know  not,  that  the 
bloodlessness,  was  any  defect.  It  strikes  me,  as 
possible,  that  man  might  have  conceived  the  first 
thought  of  sacrifices  ;  and  that  divine  condescension 
might  have  recognized  and  sanctioned  the  practice, 
in  the  upright ;  while  the  devil  perverted,  and 
abused  it,  in  the  evil.  I  cannot  think,  that  any  mere 
appointment,  could  account  for  a  universal  custom. 
It  must  be  natural,  I  conceive,  if  universal.  I  own, 
however,  that  its  being  natural,  no  more  contradicts 
its  being  appointed,  than  the  fifth  commandment 
contradicts  the  reality  of  natural  gratification.  But, 
in  that  case,  the  appointment  is  rather  like  our  de¬ 
claratory  laws,  than  a  positive  institution.  (I  am 
using  unnecessary  words,  but  I  hope  you  will  catch 
at  my  meaning.)  In  short,  I  think  it  possible,  that 
perturbation  of  conscience  took  a  kind  of  natural  vent, 

*  Misfortune’s  child  myself,  to  sorrows  heir,  — 

Misfortune’s  children  well  become  my  care. 

H  H  3 


470 


in  that  way  ;  and  that  hence  came  the  appointment, 
as  well  as  the  universal  usage  ;  instead  of  the  uni¬ 
versal  usage,  coming  from  the  appointment.  One 
thing,  amongst  others,  which  leads  me  to  this  sup¬ 
position,  is,  the  depreciating  language,  in  which  God 
speaks  of  sacrifices,  on  various  occasions  :  though  I 
own,  at  this  instant,  an  answer  occurs  to  this  remark  ; 
to  wit,  that  new  moons  and  sabbaths,  clearly  positive 
institutions,  are  spoken  of  with  like  depreciation. 
Therefore,  it  follows,  that,  if  the  external  act  be  not 
accompanied  by  the  internal  disposition,  the  former 
may  be  alike  depreciated  ;  whether  spontaneous,  or 
instituted.  Still,  my  chief  reason  holds  good ;  the 
insufficiency  of  mere  institution,  to  account  for  uni¬ 
versal  practice  ;  at  the  same  time,  I  pretend  not  to 
be  positive  as  to  the  actual  origination. 

The  passages  from  Philo  are  very  beautiful ;  and 
they  strike  me  the  more,  because  I  have  actually 
urged  the  different  materials  of  the  two  altars,  as  an 
argument  against  those,  who  made  atonement  all  in 
all.  But  I  think  vou  ask  with  reason,  Do  not  the 
two  altars  mean  more,  than  Philo  was  aware  of?  I 
believe  they  mean  much  more.  But  I  a  little  vary 
from  your  idea.  I  do  not  conceive  the  two  altars  to 
represent,  Aixouoo-uvr)  and  'Ayia.o-[xos  ;  I  rather  sup¬ 
pose  these  represented,  by  the  two  divisions  of  the 
tabernacle,  the  holy  place,  and  the  Holy  of  Holies  ; 
while  the  altar  of  burnt-offering,  standing  before,  in 
the  open  court,  gave  encouragement,  by  the  expi¬ 
ations  continually  made,  to  all  Israel  to  draw  near ; 
and,  by  the  purifying  application  of  the  blood  shed 
thereon,  fitted  the  priests,  in  particular,  for  actual 
entrance  into  the  tabernacle.  (The  purifying,  ex¬ 
tended  to  all  ;  but,  in  a  special  manner,  belonged  to 
the  priests.)  Here,  then,  I  think  the  parallel  holds 


471 


good,  between  what  our  Lord  did  once,  for  all ;  and 
what  was  done  on  the  brazen  altar.  This  great  act, 
giving,  as  you  strictly  state,  encouragement  against 
their  guilty  terrors,  to  all;  and  also,  I  am  convinced, 
producing  a  general  moral  effect,  as  far  as  it  is 
known  and  thought  of,  which  nothing  else  could 
have  effected.  But,  to  those  who  wish  to  enter  the 
tabernacle,  its  effect  is  of  a  special  kind.  The  mind 
applied  to  it,  according  to  the  purpose  of  divine 
wisdom,  actually  experiences,  the  xaSaporig  sig 
\cltqeoeiv  ©£o>  %covti9  spoken  ofj  in  Heb.  ix.  14. 

And  observe,  now,  whether  I  am  right :  but  it 
strikes  me,  from  this  and  other  passages,  that  spi¬ 
ritual  Christians,  are  on  a  level  with  Jewish  priests. 
They  are  not  only  a  ysuog  sxKextov,  but  also  a  3a<r/Xe/ov 
UpoLTsofjLoc ;  and  that  perfect  Christians,  are  on  a  level 
with  the  Jewish  high  priest,  syovTsg  7rapprj(riocu  sig 
rrju  ekto^oi/  rcov  ocyicov,  sv  rco  ol\[xolti  I tjcoo.  Or,  in 
another  view,  the  Holy  Place,  is  the  emblem  of  the 
heart  of  the  spiritual  Christian ;  in  which,  there  is 
wisdom  from  above,  (the  candlestick) ;  devotion,  or 
predominant  religion,  (the  golden  altar)  ;  and  charity, 
represented  by  the  table  of  show  bread;  and  the 
Holy  of  Holies,  the  emblem  of  the  heart  of  the  per¬ 
fect  Christian :  in  fulfilment  of  that  promise,  Afioug 

VOfJLQUg  [JLOrj  E7TI  XOLpfilOLg  GtUTCOV,  XOLl  E7TI  TCOU  hlOLVOlCOV 

aurcov  E7riypot^(o  auToug*  But  I  must  stop. 

I  will  think  of  all  you  say ;  and  will  myself  say 
more  again.  I  thank  you  for  all  your  greek,  but 
can  now  only  add,  that  Ephr.  Syrus’s  poetry  is  very 
curious.  f 

Most  truly  and  cordially  yours, 

Alex.  Knox, 


h  h  4 


4J2 


LETTER  LXXIV* 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq . 

Cashel,  Dec.  3.  1803. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  have  always  particularly  admired  that  beautiful 
passage  of  the  son  of  Sirach,  which  so  naturally  oc¬ 
curs,  when  I  take  up  the  pen  to  write  to  you. 

7r<o-T o<;  ipapfJia,Y.ov 

K at  oi  (pofiovy-evoi  Kvpiov  iv^crov<riv  avrov.  * 

Truly,  truly,  it  is  no  common  blessing,  to  have  a 
friend,  to  whom  one  can  ‘  open  his  heart,  and  dis¬ 
burden  it  of  whatever  does  not  add  to  its  comfort/ 
Ever  since  I  last  wrote  to  you,  but  especially  since 
receiving  your  last  welcome  letter,  I  have  been 
lighter  and  happier. 

Whitty  has  been  lately  in  town,  and  was  sadly  dis¬ 
appointed  at  not  meeting  you.  He  is  really  a  most 
amiable  creature,  and  what  is  pleasant,  he  has  been 
greatly  growing  in  wisdom.  There  does  not  seem 
to  remain  in  him  a  single  doctrine  nodosity.  The 
truth  is,  he  seems  like  a  man,  that  had  been  closely 
watching  a  set  of  most  satisfactory  experiments,  cor¬ 
roborative  of  the  principles  laid  down  by  you,  last 
winter ;  and,  from  time  to  time,  enforced,  and  illus¬ 
trated,  to  the  best  of  my  poor  ability.  I  own,  all  this 
deeply  gratifies  me  ;  for  one  conclusion  that  a  man 
draws  for  himself,  is  worth  volumes  of  mere  commu¬ 
nicated  wisdom. 

*  A  faithful  friend  is  the  medicine  of  life; 

And  they  who  fear  the  Lord  shall  find  him. 


473 


What  you  say  about  sacrifice,  is  well  worthy  of 
being  thought  upon.  I  have  not  yet  wholly  made 
up  my  mind  ;  but  I  certainly  neither  have,  nor  had, 
any  notion,  that  mere  appointment,  was  sufficient  to 
account  for  universal  usage.  And  here,  I  conceive, 
is  the  wisdom  of  the  appointment ;  that,  when  the 
precedent  was  once  set,  it  was  readily  followed,  be¬ 
cause  it  had  a  suitableness  to  what  was  in  man.  By 
the  way,  is  it  not  true,  that  many  errors  have  arisen 
in  the  theological  world,  by  taking  up  terms  without 
examination,  and  making  them  the  foundation-stones 
of  a  system ;  whilst  frequently,  they  have  no  cor¬ 
respondent  reality  in  the  nature  of  things  ?  I  more 
than  doubt  whether  there  be,  throughout  the  whole 
compass  of  revealed  religion,  a  single  appointment, 
that  can,  with  strict  propriety,  be  termed  a  positive 
institution.  The  sabbath,  circumcision,  the  passover, 
baptism,  the  Lord’s  supper,  not  to  mention  vari¬ 
ous  other  rites  of  religion,  have  all  the  most  per¬ 
ceptible  fitness ;  the  most  assignable  tendency,  to 
some  useful  end ;  or  the  happiest  congruity,  to  some 
principle,  or  feeling,  of  the  human  heart.  They  are 
not,  then,  positive ;  neither,  I  believe,  was  sacrifice. 
The  notion  of  positive  institutions,  seems  closely 
connected  with  a  pre-conceived  arbitrariousness,  in 
the  Divine  nature. 

As  to  the  meaning  of  the  two  altars,  I  am  happy 
to  be  set  right.  I  like  much  what  you  say  of  the 
Holy  Place,  and  Holy  of  Holies ;  only  I  doubt  the 
parity,  between  the  high  priest,  and  the  perfect 
Christian.  Christ  himself,  being  the  high  priest  of 
the  Christian  dispensation.  I  have  noted  several  pas¬ 
sages,  which  I  accidentally  hit  upon,  in  which  aXTj- 
Qsusiu,  occurs.  We  shall  soon  have  a  sufficient  number 
pro  and  con,  from  whence  to  form  our  induction 


47  4 


as  to  the  meaning  of  the  word.  Ephrem  Syrus,  it 
seems,  from  the  testimony  of  Theodoret,  and  other 
ecclesiastical  historians,  wrote  many  poems  in  the 
syriac  language.  The  two,  of  which  I  sent  you  spe¬ 
cimens,  were  probably  selected  and  translated,  by  the 
ancient  greek  interpreter.  And  I  begin  to  think 
they  may,  after  all,  be  prosodical.  The  Tioyog  hrra- 
(tmKk a&o£,  resembles  the  Anacreontic  measure. 

Take,  for  a  specimen,  the  first  four  lines  of  Ana¬ 
creon’s  first  ode. 

©eX«  XeyEiv  At psi’dat;, 

SeXu  $£  K CcftfAOV  a$Eiv 
‘A  $e  xogdoai; 

EpwTa  [xovvov  w%ei.  * 

The  affair  of  Christ  Church,  I  have  heard  a 
rumour,  is  disposed  of.  It  is  not  surprising  that 

they  should  wish  to  keep  M -  out ;  but  surely 

the  means  are  most  unworthy ;  yet  perhaps  they 
congratulate  themselves  on  their  address.  But  a 
higher  hand  directs  these  things,  as  Pindar  might 
teach  them.  Pyth.  od.  viii. 

- E<  yap  rn;  euXcc  TCEirocrai 

%vv  jjLav.pa>  nova),  i roXXotg  aoipoc; 

A ox.ei  nEcla,(ppovwv, 

BiOJ/  KOpvO-<TE[AEV  Op6o€oXoi- 

<ri  [a  7j  %  cl  v  a  i  ra  S’  ovx  e  tt’  cc  v§  p  a  <t  i  xnrai' 

A aiuuv  Se  ita,pi(7xil 

AAAOT’  a  XX  o  v  v  tt  e  p  6  s  /3  ocXX  w  v. 


*  Of  Atreus’  sons  I  fain  would  sing  ; 

Of  Cadmus,  Thebes’  great  founder-king  : 

In  vain  o’er  all  its  chords  I  rove, 

My  lyre  still  answers  only  . .  Love  ! 

f  Alluding  to  the  contemplated  introduction  of  the  son  of  a  late  dignitary, 
into  the  chapter  of  Christ  Church  Cathedral,  Dublin,  of  which  the]  father  was 
himself  a  member.  .  .  Ed, 


4?  5 


If  the  aptness  of  this  pun,  does  not  qualify  the 
pedantry  of  greek  quotation,  I  hope  that  the  weight¬ 
iness  of  the  moral  sentiment,  will  atone  for  the  levity 
of  my  pun  ;  which,  after  all,  Dr.  Allot  himself  might 
smile  at.  But  seriously,  I  am  sorry,  truly  sorry  for 
poor  G - .  My  hope  is,  that  this  secular  disap¬ 

pointment  may  be  over-ruled  to  his  advantage,  in  far 
more  important  things.  Let  us  recollect  the  morality 
of  that  ancient  tale,  so  beautifully  versified  by  Parnel, 
in  his  Hermit. 

I  forgot  to  mention,  that  I  am  engaged  in  a  plea¬ 
sant  correspondence  with - .  He  sought  it ;  and 

professes  himself,  at  once,  interested,  and  benefitted 
by  it.  He  puts  queries,  as  to  the  clerical  society, 
which  evidently  come  from  a  mind,  at  once,  inge¬ 
nious  and  investigating.  My  last  was  perhaps  too 
much  of  a  dry  catalogue,  of  liturgical  references,  to 
various  authors  ;  but  he  bespoke  something  of  the 
kind,  to  help  for  his  projected  course  of  lectures.  I 
have  not  yet  had  an  answer.  If  this  correspondence 
proceeds,  as.it  has  commenced,  good  may  come  out 
of  it ;  for  - - fills  a  very  important  post.  I  am  hope¬ 

ful,  but,  for  fear  of  disappointment,  guard  against 
being  sanguine.  You  can  say,  and  perhaps  no  other 
individual  could,  just  what  I  wish,  and  all  that  I  wTish, 
in  my  behalf,  to  the  invaluable  friends  with  whom 
you  are  at  present.  No  ordinary  compliments  would 
serve  my  purpose  ;  for  what  has  the  heart  to  do  with 
compliments  ? 

Your  most  affectionate, 

J  •  J  EBB. 


476 


LETTER  LXXV. 

To  A.  Knox ,  Esq. 


Cashel,  December  the  last,  1 808. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  wish  not  to  let  this  year  close,  without  replying  to 
your  last  kind  and  acceptable  letter. 

I  am  glad  to  tell  you  that  I  have  Watts,  and  the 
same  edition  I  think  with  yours,  .  .  Baines’,  at  Leeds. 
Any  references,  therefore,  that  you  may  have  the 
goodness  to  send,  illustrative  of  your  interesting  re¬ 
marks,  I  can  immediately  turn  to.  Am  I  wrong  in 
conjecturing,  from  the  table  of  contents,  that  the 
third  volume  will  furnish  much  to  our  purpose  ? 

I  have  had  by  last  post,  a  very  long,  very  pleasant, 

and  very  affectionate  letter  from - .  He  appears 

to  take  to  correspondence  with  me  ;  and  to  receive 
gladly  all  my  references  and  hints,  on  liturgical  sub¬ 
jects.  I  am  disposed  to  believe,  that  he  is  prepared 
to  communicate  with  great  freedom,  and  somewhat 
of  reliance  on  my  judgment.  I  know  how  weak  I 
am,  in  myself ;  but  it  would  truly  rejoice  my  heart, 
if  I  could  be  made  instrumental  in  giving  just  views 
to  one,  who  fills  so  very  important  a  post  in  society, 
and  especially  in  the  college  ;  for  I  know  from 
various  quarters,  that  he  is  greatly,  and  I  think  de¬ 
servedly,  looked  up  to  by  the  young  men,  and  espe¬ 
cially  by  the  candidates  for  orders. 

Am  I  romantic  in  supposing,  that  this  correspond¬ 
ence  with  -  may  be  a  providential  commence¬ 

ment,  of  my  own  little  labours,  in  my  own  small 


477 


way  ?  The  <  secretum  iter5,  I  do  believe,  is  to  be 
my  path.  I  have  not  that  in  me,  which  could  ever 
attract  crowds  of  auditors  ;  and  I  flatter  myself  it  is 
no  mawkishness,  (I  want  a  better  word,  familiar  to 
us  both,  but  which  I  cannot  now  recal  to  mind,)  that 
disposes  me  to  rejoice  in  my  exemption  from  the 
dangers  attendant  on  popularity.  So  far  as  it  may 
be  safe  to  conjecture  the  nature  of  one’s  probable 
sphere,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  that,  by  keeping  my¬ 
self  in  the  back  ground,  I  may  be  employed  to  the 
best  advantage,  in  supplying  hints  for  those  to  work 
upon,  who  possess  more  both  of  popular  talent,  and 
public  opportunity,  than  myself.  It  is  pleasant  to 
work  for  others,  because  self  is  so  much  out  of  ques¬ 
tion  :  and,  therefore,  it  delights  me,  when  people 
such  as  — — ,  ask  questions,  that  I  can  answer  not 
altogether  unsatisfactorily.  This  is  the  line,  in  which 
you  have  been  mostly,  and  most  effectually  employed, 
on  a  great  scale. 

‘  Say,  shall  my  little  bark  attendant  sail, 

Pursue  the  triumph,  and  partake  the  gale  ?  ’ 

I  have  been  passing  three  or  four  days  with  my 
friend  — — ,  in  whom  1  have  found  much  additional 
proof  of  solid  worth,  in  his  own  way.  Your  own 
knowledge  of  character  has  long  since  told  you,  that 
such  a  man  is  not  to  be  drawn  out  of  his  estab¬ 
lished  habits,  both  of  thinking  and  feeling :  but  he  is 
a  very  useful  auxiliary ;  and  I  have  rarely,  if  ever, 
met  a  man  not  spiritual,  with  whom  we  have  so 
many  sentiments  in  common.  And  it  is  not  an  un¬ 
pleasing  reflection,  that  this  man  abounds  in  good 
sense,  and  has  about  him  great  right  mindedness. 
He  talks  in  the  highest  terms,  and  without  any  qua- 


478 


lification,  of  you  ;  and  he  requests  that  I  will  give 
him  a  book,  or  a  letter,  or  any  commission,  which 
may  give  him  an  ostensible  cause  for  visiting  you 
when  he  goes  to  town,  which  will  be  very  soon.  He 
declares,  that  he  never  met  a  man,  from  whose  con¬ 
versation  he  derived  equal  pleasure  and  instruction  ; 
and  that  all  his  fear  is,  to  betray  his  own  ignorance, 
when  speaking  to  one  so  universally  informed  on  all 
manner  of  subjects.  This  is  to  me  most  pleasant, 
on  many  accounts  ;  but,  especially,  as  a  testimony  to 
our  ways  of  thinking  ;  for  assuredly,  independent  of 
them,  you  would  not  be  a  very  extraordinary  person. 
How  many  good  people  would  think  some  parts  of 
this  letter  insufferably  full  of  incense  to  an  enfant 
gdtd.  But  they  know  nothing  of  that  invaluable 
secret,  which  enables  a  man  to  stand  out  from  him¬ 
self  ;  and  consequently  to  view  himself,  as  he  would 
view  another.  If  I  did  not  know  a  little  of  it,  I 
could  not  write  as  I  do  ;  and,  if  I  were  not  sure  that 
you  know  a  great  deal  of  it,  I  should  not  write  thus 
to  you. 

Have  you  heard  any  thing  about  my  memorial  to 
the  commissioners  of  excise?  The  remission  of  12/. 
would  not  be  unpleasant  to  my  finances. 

I  must  have  done.  Your  most  affectionate, 

John  Jebb. 


479 


LETTER  LXXVI. 
To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  Jan.  27.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  never  admit  the  thought,  neither  indeed  does  it 
knock  for  admission,  that  you  are  a  negligent  corre¬ 
spondent.  Of  all  men  living,  I,  surely,  have  least 
reason  for  any  such  misgiving ;  and,  as  to  not  valuing 
my  letters,  I  am  no  stranger  to  your  kindly  tolerance 
of  my  ineptiae,  and  your  disposition  to  overrate  any 
of  my  less  unhappy  thoughts.  It  does,  indeed, 
greatly  delight  me  to  hear  from  you,  when  your 
time,  thoughts,  and  pen,  are  fairly  disposable ;  but, 
be  assured,  that  dearly  as  I  prize  and  cherish  every 
letter  of  yours,  I  should  feel  uneasy  at  receiving  one, 
that  broke  a  single  link  of  your  theologico-philo- 
sophical  chain ;  for  I  well  know,  that  such  chains 
are  not  easily  reparable. 

Many  thanks  for  your  striking  reference  to  Watts ; 
and  especially  for  your  accompanying  remarks.  Need 
I  mention  my  cordial  acquiescence  ?  I  think  I  need 
not :  for,  though  more  and  more  convinced  of  my 
very  bounded  originative  faculty,  I  more  and  more 
feel  that  my  mind  is  so  moulded,  as  almost  entirely 
to  accord  with  those  thoughts  of  yours,  which,  in  the 
first  instance,  I  never  could  have  myself  originated. 
Therefore,  it  may  be  assumed,  with  a  tolerable  degree 
of  moral  certainty,  that  whatever  you  throw  out, 
on  any  point  of  consequence,  will  obtain  my  ready 
assent. 


480 


There  are  many  things  connected  with  the  subject 
of  your  last,  which  I  would  gladly  say,  but  they  must 
needs  be  postponed,  till  a  season  of  more  clear¬ 
headedness  ;  for,  just  at  present,  a  severe  defluxion, 
with  its  attendant  stupor,  warns  me  to  shun  ‘  quid 
humeri  ferre  recusent’  ;  that  is,  in  plain  English,  to 
avoid  any  thing  which  calls  for  thought  or  investi¬ 
gation. 

I  had  hopes  of  seeing  you,  and  my  friends  in  town, 
next  month  ;  but  I  have  almost,  if  not  altogether, 
relinquished  every  thought  of  moving  thither  this 
year.  The  fact  is,  I  have  ordered  from  London 
several  books  of  Lackington’s  catalogue.  Among  the 
rest,  the  Benedictine  Chrysostom,  and  Augustine, 
John  Wesley’s  Works  and  Christian  Library,  com¬ 
plete,  &c.  &c.,  and  I  have  also  dispatched  an  order  to 
Jones  for  several  works  in  his  catalogue.  Now,  it  is 
needless  to  say,  that  this  cannot  be  done,  by  a  person 
in  my  circumstances,  without  self-denial  and  sacri¬ 
fice  ;  and  I  know  not  whether  I  may  ever  hereafter 
be  so  situated,  as,  with  equal  fitness,  to  relinquish 
that  annual  visit,  which  is  certainly  one  great  enjoy¬ 
ment  of  my  life.  My  health  and  spirits  seem  better 
able  to  dispense  with  it,  than  heretofore.  Were  I  to 
go  to  town,  I  should,  on  my  return,  have  only  the 
recollection  of  many  pleasant  days  with  my  friends, 
without  having  been  of  any  professional  use ;  whilst, 
by  remaining  quietly  at  home,  and  by  strictly  econo¬ 
mizing  for  this  year,  I  hope  to  furnish  myself  with 
literary  treasures,  that  may  be  a  comfort  during 
my  whole  life.  And,  if  my  health  improves,  as  I 
trust  it  may,  I  shall  endeavour  to  make  provision  for 
a  pleasant  and  useful  excursion,  next  year.  I  own, 
if  I  did  not  look  forward  to  seeing  you,  in  the  course 
of  next  summer,  in  the  south,  I  should  ill  brook  the 


481 


relinquishment  of  my  customary  trip.  Come  but 
among  us,  and  I  shall  feel  amply  compensated. 

My  kindest  remembrances  to  Miss  Fergusson. 

Ever  most  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 

P.  S.  In  one  of  the  discourses  by  Sylvester,  I  have 
happened  on  a  curious  little  paragraph.  4  Heart¬ 
awakening,  and  love-quickening  truths,  are  to  be 
duly  and  intimately  considered.  And  this  is  indeed, 
in  part,  to  truthify  in  love,  if  I  may  make  an  English 
word  to  express  the  valor  of  the  Greek  word,  oChr\- 
Qsuovt&s  ctyoLTryj.9 


LETTER  67. 
To  the  Rev .  J .  Jebb. 


Dublin,  Jan.  31.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

It  looks  as  if  I  did  not  value  yours  of  the  last  of 
December,  to  be  only  acknowledging  it  now.  But 
that  was  far  from  my  feeling:  the  reverse  of  the 
fact.  But  various  things,  indisposition,  moving,  many 
visits  since,  together  with  a  little  chain  of  thought, 
all  concurred  to  make  me  thus  comparatively  negli¬ 
gent.  Could  thought  have  reached  you,  you  would 
have  heard  from  me  often  :  and  did  I  not  love  and 
value  you,  you  would  not  hear  from  me  now ;  for 
the  same  chain  is  still  coiled  round  me ;  and  its 
links  would  seem  to  multiply,  as  I  attempt  to  ad¬ 
vance  on  it. 

i  i 


VOL.  i. 


482 


A  passage  in  Watts,  which  I  wish  you  to  look  at, 
is  in  the  third  of  the  essays,  annexed  by  way  of  ap¬ 
pendix  to  ‘  the  ruin  and  recovery’,  &c. :  Works, 
vol.  iii.  p.  542. ;  second  paragraph  of  the  essay.  To 
me,  these  few  lines,  seem  to  contain  much  important 
matter.  Observe  first,  the  account  of  the  real  evil  of 
sin.  It  is  well  called,  real  evil,  for  if  this  were  gone, 
what  could  harm?  If  this  be  not  gone,  what  can 
benefit?  In  a  word,  I  think  the  statement  a  right 
sound  one  ;  the  result  of  a  good  moral  taste,  and  a 
distinctive  mind.  But  observe,  further,  how  he  de¬ 
fines  the  relative  evil  of  sin  :  its  chief  matter,  ac¬ 
tions,  rather  than  principles ;  (though  stated  to  be 
so,  rather  than  in  contradiction  to  the  immediately 
preceding  sentence;)  its  opposite,  not  God’s  nature, 
but  God’s  law ;  and  its  consequences,  not  natural, 
but  positive  inflictions.  I  cannot  give  the  doctor 
the  same  credit  for  distinctness,  here.  But,  when 
persons  leave  what  is  natural,  and  betake  themselves 
to  what  is  positive,  where  they  can  have  no  aid  from 
analogy,  no  clue,  but  figurative,  and  consequently, 
vague  language,  what  can  they  do? 

I  do  not  mean  to  deny,  that  the  general  ideas 
maybe  substantively  just :  and  take  it  altogether,  I 
think  it  a  fair  definition,  as  far  as  definition  can  be 
relied  on  in  the  case :  and  it  especially  serves  a 
useful  purpose,  associated  with  the  foregoing  defini¬ 
tion.  For,  on  laying  them  together,  is  it  not  clear, 
that  the  real  evil  of  sin,  is  intrinsical  as  to  our  nature  : 
and  the  relative  evil  of  sin,  extrinsical ;  and  that, 
therefore,  the  former,  alone,  is  strictly  moral ;  and 
the  latter,  merely  political.  Yet,  you  observe,  it  is 
respecting  the  relative  evil,  that  he  makes  the  atone¬ 
ment  efficacious ;  while  he  ascribes  the  removal  of 
the  real  evil,  exclusively  to  sanctification  by  the 
Holy  Spirit. 


483 


Now,  in  this  view,  what  is  there  in  the  removal  of 
the  relative  evil  of  sin,  which  we  cannot  conceive 
done  once  for  all,  by  the  propitiatory  interference  of 
our  Redeemer,  as  really  and  consistently,  as  for  each 
individual  penitent  ?  Nay,  set  aside  only  particular 
redemption  ;  grant  once,  that  our  Saviour  died  for 
all ;  and  does  it  not  follow,  that  the  relative  evil  is  as 
much  removed  from  them  collectively  as  it  can  be, 
until  the  real  evil  is  removed  individually  ?  Is  not 
the  offer  of  mercy,  or,  more  clearly,  is  not  the 
visible  operation  and  progress  of  a  morally  melior¬ 
ative  plan  in  the  world,  a  direct  and  irrefragable 
evidence,  that  mankind  is  collectively  delivered  from 
the  gripe  of  a  punitive  law ;  and  that  another  state 
of  things,  irrepulsive,  gracious,  infinitely  attractive, 
now  prevails  ? 

Only  take  the  black  bar  of  Calvinism  out  of  the 
way,  and  this"seems  to  me  to  follow  from  Dr.  Watts’s 
statement,  by  inevitable  consequence.  For  law  must 
not  be  departed  from,  but  on  principle.  Rut  it  is 
departed  from,  (supposing  his  notion  of  it  just,) 
respecting  the  whole  human  race.  For  4  God  was 
in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  not 
imputing  unto  them  their  trespasses.’  Nay,  it  is  more 
than  departed  from ;  for  a  plan  opposite  to  that  of 
punishment,  a  remedial  and  sanative  plan,  is  steadily 
going  forward,  to  the  present  happiness  of  individuals, 
and  in  sure  and  certain  hope  respecting  the  mass : 
therefore,  Christ’s  sacrifice  is,  here,  fully  available ; 
it  has  done  all  it  could  do ;  and  consequently,  resist¬ 
ance  to,  and  deliverance  from,  the  real  evil  of  sin,  is 
now  the  one  thing  needful. 

Unfortunate  is  he,  whose  trust  in  the  other  [deliver¬ 
ance  from  the  relative  evil  of  sin]  leads  him  to  over¬ 
look  [the  deliverance  from  its  real  evil]  ;  and  pitiable 

i  i  2 


484 


is  he,  whose  concentrated  attention  to  this,  is  dis¬ 
turbed  by  speculative  anxieties  about  the  other. 

1  dispute  not  but  that  the  other  may  have  in  it 
real  fact.  The  universe  is  wide  ;  and  has,  probably, 
a  permanent  nursery  department.  Here,  law  may 
be  the  indispensable  instrument  of  manuduction. 
Hooker’s  view,  which  I  admired  (before  I  knew 
better)  without  bound,  may  have  some  foundation. 
But  it  is  something  better  than  law,  whose  voice  is 
the  harmony  of  the  world.  Yet  where  law  speaks,  it 
must  not  be  gainsaid  ;  and  nothing  must  be  suffered 
absolutely  discordant  with  its  tones.  I  find  no  dif¬ 
ficulty,  therefore,  in  believing,  that  our  Saviour  pro¬ 
vided  against  every  possible  embarrassment  of  this 
nature ;  and  in  believing  this,  I  conceive  I  subscribe 
to  the  substance  of  Watts’s  notion,  respecting  relative 
evil ;  though,  perhaps,  in  a  more  intelligible  way, 
than  he  might  have  done  himself.  Is  this  topic  then 
to  be  dwelt  upon  ?  In  one  case,  I  think  it  is ;  where 
a  person  doubts  whether  God  will  hear  him.  If  there 
be  such  doubt,  I  humbly  conceive  the  less  it  is  dwelt 
upon  the  better ;  inasmuch  as  it  is  a  fact,  which  our 
thinking  of’  can  make  no  surer  ;  and  which  was  really 
done,  that  we  might  not  think  of  it  primarily,  but  of 
the  end  for  which  it  was  done.  When  we  have 
thought  of  this  latter  to  purpose,  we  shall  know  better 
how  to  think  about  the  other. 

W - has  been  here,  quite  to  my  liking.  He  read 

me  an  excellent  sermon,  which  he  preached  in  the 

Asylum.  - did  not  like  it.  He  thought  it  too 

high,  and  that  it  rolled  over  the  people’s  heads : 
this  might  be  partly  true,  as  I  think  it  was  over 
poetical,  too  lubricous.  Still,  I  should  rather  roll  over 
people’s  heads,  than  under  them. 


485 


LETTER  LXXVII. 

To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 

,j  jt.-‘  -■  t.  *  vv:  ••  •«-  i  ^ 

—  _  Feb.  I.  1809,  6  o’clock  evening* 

My  dear  Friend, 

By  some  of  the  usual  mismanagements  of  our  post,  I 
have  but  just  received  your  acceptable  letter $  and 
wish  to  say  a  few  words  in  acknowledgment  of  it, 
and  that  which  preceded  it. 

The  state  of  the  weather,  and  of  my  head,  for  the 
last  two  or  three  days,  has  been  such,  that  I  could 
not  pay  the  attention  I  wished,  to  the  investigandayou 
suggested.  Your  quotation  from  Primate  Newcome 
is  extremely  pleasant.  It  is  certainly  very  well,  that 
such  a  person  should  have  seen,  and  pointed  out  the 
climax.  But  indeed  I  conceive  that  point  to  be 
so  self-evident,  that  no  reasonable  person  can  with¬ 
hold  assent,  when  it  is  once  fairly  stated.  The  divi¬ 
sion  of  the  119th  psalm  laid  down  by  you,  I  entirely 
accord  with,  down  to  the  12th  v.  There,  as  I  at  present 
feel,  I  would  propose  an  arrangement  somewhat  dif¬ 
ferent.  But  I  have  not,  hitherto,  been  able  to  in¬ 
vestigate  the  matter  so  deeply  as  I  could  wish :  I  am 
well  convinced,  that,  for  the  most  part,  I  mean  with 
very  raie  exceptions,  aboriginal  words  are  to  be  pre- 
fened  $  always,  when  the  sense  can  be  exactly  given 
by  them,  and  when  it  cannot,  the  most  naturalized 
foreigners  should  be  resorted  to. 

I  will  attend  to  what  you  say,  about  sameness  of 
idea,  and  sameness  of  letter ;  especially,  as  I 

1  1  3 


cor- 


486 


dially  concur  in  thinking  we  must  make  our  sally, 
from  the  alphabetical  poems.  Of  their  importance, 
Bishop  Lowth  was  aware ;  it  is  on  them  he  bot¬ 
toms  his  system  :  but  he  did  not,  probably,  discern  a 
tenth  part  of  the  use,  that  may  be  hereafter  made  of 
them.  As  to  sameness  of  idea  throughout  a  stanza  ; 
I  had  been  led  to  remark  on  the  short  quotations  at 
the  end  of  Ps.  cvii.,  that  the  topics  respectively  close, 
with  the  close  of  each  stanza  :  now,  if  this  take  place 
in  the  alphabetical  stanzas,  it  will  be  a  most  important 
confirmation  of  my  arrangement.  By  the  way,  I  have 
drawn  up,  by  way  of  specimen,  an  introductory 
analysis  of  the  107th  psalm,  with  notes,  both  on  the 
beauties,  and  proprieties,  which  flow  from  the  struc¬ 
ture  of  the  poetry;  and  on  the  comparative  excel¬ 
lence  of  its  finest  passages,  and  parallel  ones  from  the 
ancients.  In  a  word,  I  have  attempted  to  edit  it,  as 
a  sacred  classic,  that  you  and  others  may  judge,  how 
far  it  might  be  desirable  to  proceed  with  other  psalms, 
in  a  similar  way. 

To  your  observations  on  the  elegiac  versification, 
I  cannot  at  present  accede.  I  grant  you,  that  grief  is 
abrupt,  rather  than  long-winded  :  but,  surely,  abrupt¬ 
ness  of  sentiment,  may  very  well  coincide  with  length 
of  line.  The  object  of  the  elegy,  is,  to  excite  solemn 
thoughts,  and  melancholy  feelings  ;  and  this,  surely, 
is  best  effected  by  a  long  line.  The  elegiac  measure, 
both  of  Greeks  and  Latins,  is  longer  than  the  usual 
lyric  measures ;  and  our  English  elegiac  measure,  is, 
also,  as  long  as  our  heroic.  That  the  hebrew  Elegiac 
line  has  a  bimembral  form,  I  readily  admit ;  but  so, 
also,  had  the  metres  used  by  Chapman,  and  those 
used  by  Drayton  ;  and  the  division  of  them  into 
shorter  lines,  was  a  modern  invention.  Nor  do  I 


487 


think  there  can  be  produced,  either  from  the  greek, 
latin,  or  English  language,  an  elegiac  poem,  written 
in  short  verse.  For  instance,  8th  and  6th,  in  English, 

But  what  I  wish  you  particularly  to  advert  to,  is 
Rabbi  Azarias’s  system,  as  given  by  Bishop  Lowth. 
This,  I  apprehend,  will  throw  much  light  on  the  point. 
I  have,  I  conceive,  discovered  a  strong  confirmation  of 
his  plan,  by  simplyputting  two  circumstances  together. 
Josephus  speaks  in  the  following  terms,  of  Moses* 

song  :  .  .  YaTTEITCL  7TQl7}(riV  E^OtfJLETQQV  CLUT0l£  avsyvw,  V)V 

HarocXeT^onrsv  sv  TtofiiShico  rw  U%co,  7rgoppr)0-iv  e^oiktolv  tcov 
£(TQ(XEvauv,  xa$’  tJv  ysyovs  ttocvtol,  kcli  yiverou,  [ArjOev  sxeivou 
$ir)[AOL%Tr)xoTO£  Trjg  Antiq.  lib.  iv.cap.  8.  §  44. 

And  Bishop  Patrick  tells  us,  that  the  Jews  reckon 
this  song  to  consist  of  seventy  verses  ;  each  of  which, 
contains  two  distinct  and  entire  sentences.  On 
reading  the  above  two  passages,  I  naturally  took  up 
my  attempt  at  an  arrangement  of  the  song ;  when, 
to  my  great  surprise  and  gratification,  I  found,  that  I 
had  actually  divided  it  into  140  lines,  coinciding  with 
the  bimembral  parts  of  the  70  lines,  marked  out 
by  the  Jews.  Hence,  I  went  to  the  Polyglot ;  and 
found,  in  a  great  majority  of  instances,  that  each  of 
my  lines,  contained  three  hebrew  words ;  of  course, 
six  hebrew  words,  coinciding  with  Josephus’s  account 
of  the  poem  having  been  written  in  hexametres. 

From  hence,  then,  I  am  disposed  to  think,  that, 
whenever  a  pure  hebrew  text  can  be  established,  it 
will  go  to  confirm  Rabbi  Azarias’s  scheme ;  and  that 
the  verses  will  then  appear  to  be  hexametres,  penta- 


*  Then  he  recited  to  them  a  poem,  in  hexametre  verse,  which  he  has  inserted 
in  the  Pentateuch,  containing  a  prediction  of  things  future ;  conformably  with 
which  all  subsequent  events  have  come,  and  still  come  to  pass ;  neither  has 
Moses  erred  one  tittle  from  the  truth. 

i  i  4 


488 


metres,  tetrametres,  &c.  &c. ;  and  hence,  too,  I  can¬ 
not  bring  myself  to  reject  the  long  lines,  whilst  we 
have  such  authority  for  them  as  that  of  Josephus, 
backed  by  the  tradition  of  the  Jews  themselves.* 

The  more  I  have  considered  these  matters,  the 
more  I  am  disposed  to  think,  that  the  precise 
number  of  hebrew  words  must  be  taken  into  ac¬ 
count,  in  order  to  determine  the  precise  nature  of 
the  verses.  Open  Lowth’s  preliminary  dissertation  to 
Isaiah,  p.  29.  He  there  gives  eight  lines  from  the  19th 
psalm  ;  all  of  which,  he  classes  in  the  same  order  of 
versification.  Now,  it  occurred  to  me,  that  the  last 
couplet  was  shorter  than  the  other  three  ;  and,  on 
looking  at  the  hebrew,  I  find,  that,  whilst  the  first 
three  couplets  are  uniformly  pentametres,  the  last 
couplet  is  a  tetrametre;  that  is,  in  the  first  six  lines, 
each  has  five  words,  while  the  last  two,  have  each  but 
four. 

This,  it  occurs  to  me,  may  be  no  unfair  mode  of 
trying  your  projected  division  of  the  elegiac  line ;  I 
shall  therefore  copy  two  or  three  of  them,  from  the 
specimen  in  the  original. 

mvi  neo  nSs. 

'mow  lit? 
nb 

3  2  1 

nK^m  ppn 

Again,  the  remainder  of  your  quotation,  exhibits 
the  following  number  of  hebrew  words  in  each  line, 
which  I  have  not  time  to  transcribe. 

*  The  theory  of  a  metrical  character  in  hebrew  poetry,  was  afterwards  com¬ 
pletely  disproved  by  the  Bishop  himself ;  who  has  fully  shown,  in  his  ‘  Sacred 
Literature,’  that  it  was  a  poetry,  not  of  words,  but  of  thoughts.  .  .  Ed. 


489 


3  2  1 

2  1 

4  3  2  1 

2  1 

4  3  2  1 

2  1 

3  2  1 

2  1 

I  own  I  prefer  the  longer  verse;  and  I  beg  of  you 
to  consider,  whether,  by  dividing  them,  you  do  not 
militate  against  the  scheme  of  the  writer,  who  has 
acrostically  commenced  every  longer  line :  if  he  had 
arranged  after  your  plan,  why  not  begin  the  long  and 
short  line  acrostically  ?  I  have  scarcely  time  to  read 
over,  much  less  to  revize ;  so  that  I  fear  you  will 
have  many  crudities  to  make  allowance  for. 

Yours  most  affectionately, 

J»  J EBB i 


LETTER  LXXVIII. 
To  A .  Knox ,  Esq. 


Feb.  7.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

F or  some  time  past,  I  have  been  wishing  to  write  to 
you ;  but  you  will  not  wonder  that  the  execution  of 
my  wish  has  been  suspended  per  force,  when  I  tell 
you,  that  it  will  have  been  precisely  one  fortnight  to¬ 
morrow,  since  I  have  stirred  out  of  doors.  It  is  one  of 
my  old  attacks;  and,  after  I  had  thought  myself  quite 
recruited,  I  incautiously  brought  on  a  relapse  last 


490 


week,  by  over-exertion  in  conversation.  When  quite 
recovered,  which  is  not  yet  the  case,  I  trust  that  this 
illness  will  have  proved  serviceable. 

Last  Saturday  I  suffered  extremely,  under  the  most 
dispiriting  languor,  and  the  most  alarming  apprehen¬ 
sion  that  all  intellectual  power  was  forsaking  me.  In 
this  frame,  I  took  up  my  pen  in  search  of  relief  and 
wrote  the  lines,  which  you  will  read  in  the  opposite 
page  ;  it  is  needless  to  say  that  they  do  not  claim  the 
title  of  poetry. 

O  Thou,  whose  all  enlivening  ray 
Can  turn  my  darkness  into  day, 

Disperse,  great  God,  my  mental  gloom, 

And  with  thyself  my  soul  illume. 

Though  gathering  sorrows  swell  my  breast, 

Speak  but  the  word,  and  peace  and  rest 
Shall  set  my  troubled  spirit  free, 

In  sweet  communion,  Lord,  with  thee. 

What  though,  in  this  heart-searching  hour, 

Thou  dim’st  my  intellectual  power ; 

The  gracious  discipline  I  own, 

And  wisdom  seek  at  thy  blest  throne  : 

A  wisdom,  not  of  earthly  mould, 

Not  such  as  learned  volumes  hold, 

Not  selfish,  arrogant,  and  vain, 

That  chills  the  heart,  and  fires  the  brain : 

But  Father  of  eternal  light, 

In  fixt  and  changeless  glory  bright, 

I  seek  the  wisdom  from  above, 

Pure,  peaceful,  gentle,  fervent  love  ! 

Let  love  divine  my  bosom  sway. 

And  then  my  darkness  will  be  day ; 

No  doubts,  no  fears,  shall  heave  my  breast, 

For  God  himself  will  be  my  rest ! 


j.  j. 


Yours  ever. 


491 


LETTER  68. 

To  the  Rev .  J .  Jebb. 

Feb.  13.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  wrote  the  enclosed  on  Saturday,  but  it  was  too 
late  for  the  post ;  I  therefore,  to  make  up  for  that, 
add  something  more. 

My  thoughts  grow ;  new  lights  seem,  every  now 
and  then,  to  open  upon  me ;  and  to  show  some  fresh 
object  of  admiration,  in  the  great  temple  of  truth  ;  I 
cannot  put  on  paper  even  a  slight  outline,  of  what 
has  occurred  to  me  within  the  last  three  months. 
What  seems  to  me,  is,  that  the  New  Testament  con¬ 
tains  a  great  deal  more,  respecting  a  hierarchical 
church,  than  any  one  I  know  of,  has  yet  imagined ; 
and  that  a  more  express,  and  circumstantial  transfer 
of  hierarchical  privileges,  from  the  jewish  nation  to 
the  gentiles,  may  be  traced,  than,  at  first  view,  could 
be  thought  likely.  On  the  most  general  supposition 
of  such  a  plan,  choice  of  place  in  which  to  begin  the 
system,  so  as  to  ensure  imitation,  and  connected  ex¬ 
tension,  would  be  a  first  object :  and  what  place  so 
thoroughly  fitting,  as  Ephesus,  the  capital  of  Asia 
Proconsular,  consequently  of  Asia  Minor;  of  Asia 
unlimitedly,  says  Chrysostom,  in  his  short,  but  re¬ 
markable  preface,  to  his  comment  on  that  epistle. 
The  next  thing  to  be  expected,  would  be  some  pe¬ 
culiar  impressiveness  of  commencing  circumstances. 
For  this,  turn  to  the  19th  chapter  of  the  Acts;  and 
observe  the  unparalleled  combination.  The  first 
persons  addressed,  4  John’s  disciples.’  The  number 


492 


about  twelve,  .  .  then  fully  christianized,  by  baptism  in 
the  name  of  Christ,  and  by  imposition  of  hands,  fol¬ 
lowed,  as  at  first,  with  speaking  with  tongues,  and  pro¬ 
phesying.  Then,  a  schism  with  the  synagogue,  and  a 
decided  turning  to  the  school,  xoctf  $ia.7^syofAEvos 

sv  rr)  (r%o7,r)  T vpoLvvou  nvog,  Then,  a  signal  authenti¬ 
cation  of  all  this,  from  heaven,  St.  Paul,  at  Ephesus, 
being  equalled  only  by  St.  Peter,  at  Jerusalem.  Com¬ 
pare  the  11th  and  12th  verses  of  this  chapter,  with 
chap.  v.  12.  .  .  16.  I  must  not  leave  out  of  the  detail 
the  devil’s  repeating,  as  nearly  as  was  possible,  at 
Ephesus,  what  he  had  done  at  Jerusalem  :  the  state¬ 
ment,  A VOLCTOLS  6  CLp^lSpEUg,  XCLl  7T0tVTEg  Of  (Tl)V  OCUTCO 
(tJ  ovcra  alpE(Tig  rcov  Sa^ou^a/cov),  E7r7i7)G’$r)(rav  %r)\ou, 
and  the  account  of  Demetrius  and  the  shrine-makers 
at  Ephesus,  being  curiously  similar.  But  let  me  not 
overlook  the  still  more  curious  difference,  between 
the  apostles  St.  Peter  and  St.  John  being  liberated 
by  an  angel,  and  St.  Paul  befriended  by  the  Asiarchs, 
and  brought  off  by  the  town  clerk.  In  the  first  case, 
divine  power,  alone;  in  the  other,  secular  instru¬ 
mentality.  The  one,  befitting  the  plan  for  merely 
forming  the  leaven  ;  the  other,  no  less  suitable  to 
that,  which  was  to  transfuse  the  leaven  through  the 
meal. 

So  much  for  the  matters  in  Acts  xix. ;  but  how 
strictly  correspondent,  are  following  events.  The 
commencement,  (as  far  as  relates  to  the  gentile 
church,)  of  regular  episcopacy  there,  in  the  appoint¬ 
ment  of  Timothy ;  a  well  chosen  first  bishop  of  a 
system,  which  was  to  be,  transferred,  enlarged,  sub¬ 
limated,  analogical,  judaism ;  he  being  maternally 
Jewish,  and  paternally  Grecian  ;  and  of  a  system, 
which  was  to  operate,  chiefly,  in  an  hereditary  way  ; 
the  faith,  which  he  had,  being  derived  from  his  grand- 


493 


mother,  and  mother  ;  and  (need  I  add?)  of  a  system, 
which  was  to  act  through  education,  he  having  known 
the  scripture  from  his  youth. 

The  epistle  to  the  Ephesians  comes  in  with  strictest 
harmony.  In  other  epistles,  the  [xaprupiov  is  the 
ruling  subject,  in  general,  the  only  one.  Here,  it  is 
eminently,  almost  wholly,  the  [Auo-Trjpiov .  This  dis¬ 
tinction  may  be  new  to  you.  But  compare  1  Cor. 
ii.  1.  with  the  7th  and  following  verses  of  the  same 
chapter;  and  with  Ephesians  passim ;  and  then  judge, 
whether  the  [xotpru^ov  is  not  the  object  of  ;  the 

[jiucrTri^iou,  of  £7riyva)(ri$ :  the  first,  of  course,  to  be 
communicated  to  all ;  the  latter,  to  the  perfect  only. 
I  could  say  something,  in  this  connection,  of  our 
Lord’s  distinction,  between  the  world  believing,  and 
the  world  knowing :  St.  John  xvii. :  but  I  hasten 
onward. 

The  superior  depth  of  this  epistle,  has  been  ac¬ 
knowledged  by  all.  Ignatius,  quoted  by  Michaelis, 
and  lying  now  before  me,  says  to  the  Ephesians, 
Se  nauAou  (tu pipu (ttou  6(tts  riyiao’psvov.*  St. 
Chrysostom,  in  the  above-quoted  preface,  states  it  as 
a  received  opinion,  that  St.  Paul  made  special  com¬ 
munications  to  the  Ephesians.  I  have  not  that 
volume  of  the  greek ;  but  the  latin  translation  of 
Musculus,  is,  ‘  Dicitur  et  illis,  tanquam  jam  imbutis, 
profundiora  spiritualium  sensuum  concredidisse.t  I 
think,  ‘  dicitur  ’,  implies  what  I  say.  St.  Chrysostom 
then  adds,  as  his  own  judgment,  4  Est  autem  haec 
epistola  sublimibus  reperta  sensibus  et  dogmatibus  ’  : 
and  again,  4  abundat  vehementer  sublimibus  et  excel- 
lentibus  sensibus.  Nam  quse  fere  nusquam  locutus  est, 

*  Ye  are  fellow-adepts  of  the  holy  Paul. 

f  He  is  said  to  have  entrusted  to  them,  as  if  already  initiated,  the  profounder 
mysteries  of  the  spiritual  senses. 


494 


hie  loquitur  ;  utpote  cum  dicit,  ut  nota  fiat  principa- 
tibus,  ac  potestatibus  coelestibus,  per  ecclesiam,  mul¬ 
tiformis  sapientia  Dei.’  *  I  add  to  this  ancient  testi¬ 
mony,  Grotius’s  more  modern,  but  wonderfully  strong 
one  ;  4  Paulus  jam  vetus  in  apostolico  munere,  et  ob 
evangelium  Romm  vinctus,  ostendit  illis,  quanta  sit 
vis  evangelii  prae  doctrinis  omnibus ;  quomodo  omnia 
Dei  consilia,  ab  omni  aevo,  eo  tetenderint ;  quam  ad- 
miranda  sit  in  eo  Dei  efhcacia :  rerum  sublimitatem 
adaequans  verbis  sublimioribus,  quam  ulla  unquam 
habuit  lingua  humana.’  t 

What,  then,  does  St.  Paul  communicate  to  the 
Ephesians,  to  bear  out  all  these  strong  plaudits  ? 
This,  I  conceive,  .  .  that  Christianity  was  to  be  an 
analogical  judaism  ;  acting  on  all  human  society,  in 
proportion  as  God  should  extend  it,  as  the  jewish 
dispensation  acted,  on  that  single  nation  :  that  thus, 
the  Christian  church  was,  on  a  grand  scale,  to  take 
the  place  of  judaism  ;  was  to  be,  in  a  sublimer  way, 
or  for  a  nobler  purpose,  a  similar  apparatus  ;  was, 
consequently,  to  be  as  appositely  fitted  to  its  great 
end  ;  and,  on  the  whole,  was  to  be  the  sphere,  in 
which,  as  well  as  the  organ,  by  which,  all  the  magni¬ 
ficent  prophecies  of  the  Old  Testament  were  to  have 
their  final  fulfilment. 

The  secrecy,  on  this  subject,  to  others,  throws  ad- 


*  But  this  epistle  is  replete  with  sublime  sentiments  and  doctrines  :  (and  again) 
it  superabounds  with  sublime  and  excellent  sentiments.  For  he  delivers,  here, 
truths,  which  he  has  hardly  touched  on  elsewhere ;  as,  for  example,  when  he 
says,- — ‘  To  the  end  that,  unto  principalities,  and  heavenly  powers,  might  be 
made  known,  by  the  church,  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God.’ 

t  Paul,  at  the  time  when  this  epistle  was  written,  a  veteran  in  the  apostle’s 
office,  and  a  prisoner  at  Rome  for  the  sake  of  the  Gospel,  shows  the  Ephesians, 
how  unspeakably  the  efficacy  of  the  Gospel  transcends  all  other  systems ; 
how  all  the  counsels  of  God,  in  all  ages,  tended  toward  this  goal ;  how  the  great 
power  of  God  is  to  be  admired  in  it :  clothing  his  sublime  subject  in  sublimer 
language  than  ever  before  fell  from  the  lips  of  man. 


495 


ditional  light  on  what  has  been  said  to  the  Ephesians. 
But  the  most  remarkable  concealment  is,  that,  in  the 
epistle  to  the  Colossians ;  wrote,  as  we  have  ground 
to  think,  at  the  same  time ;  and  curiously  touching 
on  the  same  topics.  This  has  deceived  many  into  a 
belief,  that  they  really  treated  on  the  same  points  ; 
but  with  an  adroitness,  not  almost  to  be  imagined,  St. 
Paul  does  not,  in  any  single  instance,  drop  a  word  to 
the  Colossians,  which  could  light  the  train  of  thought 
he  pursues,  in  writing  to  the  Ephesians.  In  fact,  he 
seems  to  do  something  amazingly  of  the  same  kind, 
but  yet  not  of  the  same  kind.  For,  to  the  Colossians, 
the  mystery  is  4  Christ  in  you  the  hope  of  glory’; 
whereas,  to  the  Ephesians,  it  is  the  AvaxsQotXoucoo-is 
rcov  7 ravrcou  ev  Xp/CTm .  .  sig  oixovo^iolv  Tr'kr^co^aTog  rcov 
xoupcov.  As  a  farther  illustration,  compare  Colos¬ 
sians  i.  21,  22,  23.  with  Ephesians  ii.  11,  12,  &c.  &c. 
This  last-quoted  passage,  I  should  observe,  is  that  on 
which  I  found  an  analogical  Judaism. 

Now,  even  to  name  this  to  the  Colossians,  would 
have  been  dangerous  ;  as  a  tendency  to  gross  judaism, 
was  the  epidemic  of  the  day  ;  and  to  have  talked  of 
an  analogical  judaism  to  nine  out  of  ten,  would  have 
been  thought  to  sanction  gross  judaism.  Another 
cause  was,  that  they  only,  who  could  use  this  world 
without  abusing  it,  could  understand  how  the  church 
could  make  the  world  its  own  ;  and  to  speak  to  others, 
of  the  church  mingling  with  the  world,  might  be 
tempting  the  weak  to  commixture  inconsistent  with 
all  safety.  On  the  contrary,  the  Ephesians  having, 
more  than  any  other  church,  risen  above  worldly 
temptations,  (mark  Acts  xix.  19.,)  might  be  trusted 
above  any  church,  with  the  whole  truth.  I  can  but 
just  add,  that  the  epistles  to  St.  Timothy,  wonderfully 
accord  with  that  to  the  Ephesians  themselves.  The 


496 


church  is,  in  1  Tim.,  the  house  of  God,  <rryAoy  xou 
£$%cua)[Aot  of  the  truth :  mark,  <rryAo£,  visibility,  and 
sfyoucopoc  establishment :  in  2  Tim.  ii.  20.  a  great 
house,  in  which  must  be  various  vessels ;  some  to 
honour,  some  to  dishonour.  But  its  being  the  pillar 
and  ground  of  truth,  is  wonderful !  A  house,  a 
great  house,  is  the  commencement  often  of  a  city  ;  it 
was  to  be  so  here.  Our  Lord  spoke  of  both  a  house 
and  a  city  ;  St.  Matt.  v.  14,  15. :  but  first,  of  a  can¬ 
dlestick  and  candle.  And  observe,  the  Apocalypse 
has  them  all.  By  that  time,  wisdom  had  budded  her 
house,  and  hewn  out  her  seven  pillars.  But  Ephesus 
is  the  first  of  them  all.  4 1  will  remove  thy  candle¬ 
stick  ’,  seems  to  be  4 1  will  take  away  thy  primacy  \ 

Ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  69. 

To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehb . 


Feb.  22.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  assure  you,  had  you  sent  me  your  sermon,  with¬ 
out  assigning  any  reason,  I  should  have  thanked  you 
for  it  cordially.  In  some  respects,  I  like  it  better, 
than  any  I  have  yet  read,  or  heard,  of  yours.  I  find 
no  sentiment  in  it,  which  my  head  and  heart  do  not 
accord  with  ;  and  the  peroration,  I  have  read  with  the 
sincerest  pleasure,  as  being  exquisitely  what  it  should 
be.  What  I  most  admire  in  the  whole,  is  an  unla- 


497 

boured  fluency,  which,  I  think,  rises  higher,  than  in 
any  former  instance. 

Yet  I  must  say,  with  this,  that  a  firmer  foundation 
might  have  been  laid  for  this  noble  superstructure. 
The  part  where  I  think  this  might  have  been  done, 
lies,  in  great  measure,  between  the  reference  to  Sim¬ 
plicius,  and  that  to  Paley.  If  I  am  to  define  the 
want  here,  I  would  say,  that  more  of  analogy  might 
have  been  useful.  The  ground  of  loving  God  for  his 
own  sake,  needs  to  be  well,  and  clearly  laid.  When 
understood,  it  is  self-evident ;  but  it  needs  elucida¬ 
tion,  though  not  demonstration.  The  next  head,  in 
which  the  reference  to  Paley  occurs,  is  also  a  deli¬ 
cate  business.  What  you  say  on  it,  is  as  indisputable 
to  me,  as  the  meridian  sun ;  but  I  doubt,  if  many  in 
your  audience  could  understand  it ;  I  doubt  if  any, 
but  yourself,  and  any  pious  methodist  who  happened 
to  be  there. 

On  what  ground  our  friend  might  not  have  relished 
it,  I  cannot  conceive.  If  his  judgment  comparatively, 
and  quoad  modum,  dissented  from  what  I  have  now 
been  in  a  degree  censuring  ;  I  should  not  blame  him, 
nor  would  you.  But  I  should  be  sorry  for  his  own 
sake,  more  than  on  any  other  account,  that  his  heart 
should  have  disrelished  what  he  heard.  I  say,  on  his 
own  account ;  for  his  place  in  God’s  great  scheme, 
would  not  be,  some  way  or  other,  unsupplied ;  but 
the  loss  to  himself,  what  could  make  up  ? 

But  I  persuade  myself  this  cannot  be.  I  know, 
and  you  know,  that  the  mechanical  part  of  our  friend’s 
mind  is  not  strong ;  and  I  can  deeply  sympathize 
with  one,  to  whose  weakness,  a  little  deficiency, 
might  appear  a  great  aberration.  I  can  truly  say, 
I  have  been  frightened,  at  my  own  dread  of  hearing 

VOL.  I.  K  K 


498 


from  you,  in  the  Asylum,  or  College  Chapel,  an  over¬ 
strong  expression. 

On  the  whole,  you  have  much  cause  to  thank  God 
on  your  own  account ;  for  the  day  will  soon  come, 
when  it  will  have  been  better  to  have  written  that 
sermon,  than  to  have  had  the  fee-simple  of  the  solar 
system.  And  I  do  believe,  you  need  not  be  unsatis¬ 
fied,  on  the  other  ground ;  for,  if  even  there  should 
be  a  wrong  warp,  it  will  not  remain.  There  are 
minds,  that  will  not  go  wrong ;  there  are  others, 
who  may  go  wrong,  but  will  not  remain  so. 

J.  F.  takes  some  matters  to  you.  One  is  a  light 
work,  which  I  thought  worth  having,  the  memoirs 
of  an  American  lady ;  the  other,  of  my  sending,  is  a 
wonderful  treat,  I  mean  the  introduction.  How,  ex¬ 
cept  in  this  way,  could  what  I  venture  to  anticipate, 
make  its  commencement  ?  The  first  movements  must 
be  of  a  mixed  quality  ;  how  could  they  be  of  a  milder 
nature,  than  those  manifested  in  this  volume  ? 

I  greatly  like - .  I  think  he  will  be  a  comfort 

to  you  and  me  ;  and  I  hope  no  one  else  will  be  a  dis¬ 
comfort  to  either  of  ns.  But  we  neither  of  us  build 
our  happiness  on  frail  man  ;  therefore,  sure  I  am, 
that,  even  in  frail  man,  we  shall  be  less  likely  to  be 
disappointed.  In  as  much,  as,  through  God’s  grace, 
we  shall  not  contribute  to  the  occurrence  of  any  such 
calamity. 

Yours  ever,  in  much  hope  and  little  fear, 

A.  K. 


499 


LETTER  LXXIX. 


To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 


My  dear  Friend, 


Feb.  23.  1809. 


ITour  most  valuable  letter  I  could  not  read  till  this 
morning;  and  I  cannot  postpone  for  two  days,  to¬ 
morrow  not  being  a  post  day,  expressing  hastily  the 
great  delight  it  has  given  me  :  nothing  can  be  clearer 
and  plainer ;  and  I  see  at  once,  that  your  point  wilt 
be  luminously  made  out ;  but  I  long  to  see  the  whole 
exfoliated. 

As  to  the  fitness  of  Ephesus,  as  a  place,  I  have 
just  found  a  very  striking  passage,  too  long  for  pre¬ 
sent  quotation,  in  Castalio’s  comment :  which,  at 
another  time,  I  will  send. 

Not  only  the  depth,  but  the  obscurity  of  this  epistle 
has  been  remarked. 

Erasmus  says,  ‘  Idem  in  hac  epistola  Pauli  fervor, 
eadem  profunditas,  idem  omnino  spiritus,  et  pectus. 
Verum,  non  alibi  sermo,  hyperbatis,  antapodotis,  aliis- 
que  incommoditatibus  molestior,  sive  id  interpretis 
fait,  quo  fuit  usus  in  hac,  sive  sensuum  sublimitatem 
sermonis  facultas  non  est  assecuta.  Certe  stylus 
tantum  dissonat  a  caeteris  Pauli  epistolis,  ut  alienus 
videri  possit,  nisi  pectus  atque  indoles  Paulinas  mentis 
hanc  prorsus  illi  vindicaret/ #  For  this  obscurity, 


*  This  epistle  possesses  all  the  characteristic  qualities  of  Saint  Paul’s  other  writ¬ 
ings  j  —  the  same  fervor,  the  same  depth,  and  altogether  the  same  tone  and  spirit. 
But,  in  none  of  his  epistles,  is  the  style  more  incumbered  by  inversions,  trans¬ 
positions,  and  other  perplexities ;  whether  through  the  fault  of  the  amanuensis 

K  K  2 


500 


Michaelis  (p.  151.)  does  not  even  attempt  to  assign  a 
cause.  Erasmus,  you  see,  has  done  so  aliquatenus  ; 
but  may  we  not  add,  that  the  obscurity  was  possibly 
designed,  to  prevent  St.  Paul’s  esotericks  from  being 
knowable  to  the  uninitiated  ?  You  must  certainly  re¬ 
collect,  (I  cannot  now  turn  to  books,)  that,  when 
Alexander  complained  to  Aristotle,  that  he  had  done 
ill  to  give  the  world  his  esotericks,  the  philosopher 
replied  :  ‘  I  have  published  them,  and  I  have  not 
published  them  ;  for  none  but  the  initiated  will  un¬ 
derstand  me.’ 

One  thing  more ;  have  you  remarked  the  quota¬ 
tion  from  St.  Basil,  in  Michaelis,  p.  143.  ;  with  his 
observations  ?  The  whole  appears  to  me  very  strik¬ 
ing;  and  very  important,  in  a  way,  that  no  German 
critic  ever  could  have  dreamed  of.  In  my  next,  I 
shall  have  something  to  say  about  myself.  This  is 
not  worth  postage ;  but  I  cannot  deny  myself  the 
pleasure  of  telling  you,  that  you  have  poured  in  a 
flood  of  new  light  upon  me,  and  I  had  it  so  many 
days  shut  up  in  a  dark  lanthorn  !  i.  e.  in  my  writing- 
box.  There ’s  a  metaphor ! 

Yours  ever, 

*  JF.  J EBB. 


whom  he  used  on  this  occasion,  or  the  impossibility  of  finding  words  adequate  to 
sustain  the  sublimity  of  the  thoughts.  However  this  may  be,  thus  much  is  cer¬ 
tain,  the  style  differs  so  completely  from  that  of  Saint  Paul’s  other  epistles,  that 
this  epistle  might  be  thought  to  have  been  from  a  different  hand,  did  not  the  pe¬ 
culiar  character  and  genius  of  Saint  Paul’s  mind  come  in  to  vindicate  his 
claim  to  the  authorship. 


SOI 


LETTER  LXXX. 
To  A .  Knox , 


Cashel,  Feb.  27.  1809.  , 

My  dear  Friend, 

It  is  curious  and  pleasant,  that  your  criticisms  on 
my  sermon,  harmonize  exactly  with  my  own.  Not 
an  observation  did  not  pass  through  my  mind,  even 
before  the  sermon  was  preached.  When  the  season 
comes  for  correction,  your  suggestions  shall  be  care¬ 
fully  kept  in  view.  All  you  say  of  our  friend,  is 
most  just.  And  I  am  willing  to  hope  that  all  will 

yet  be  right.  - and  — —  are  here,  and  both  of 

them  exactly  what  could  be  wished. 

I  mentioned  what  Castalio  says  about  the  Ephe¬ 
sians,  or  rather,  about  Ephesus.  It  is,  perhaps, 
nothing  to  your  purpose,  but  such  as  it  is,  I  will 
transcribe  it.  c  Ephesus  fuit  civitas  mercatoria, 
admodum  frequens  ac  opulenta,  et  sicut  Plinius, 
lib.  v.,  inquit,  ‘  alterum  lumen  Minoris  Asiae.’  In 
ea  convertenda,  Apostolus  diu  multumque,  et  cum 
ingenti  periculo,  sudavit,  duabus  potissimum  causis, 
sicut  et  Corinthi,  ita  spiritu  Dei  eum  regente  motus, 
nempe  quod  cum  ob  mercaturam  et  magnitudinem, 
turn  ob  navigationis  commoditatem,  maxima  ibi 
semper  erat  hominum  frequentia,  ut  et  ibi  multos 
docere  et  convertere,  et  per  illos  conversos  porro 
late  per  orbem  terrarum  spargere  evangelium  potu- 
erit.  Situ  enim  est  in  extremo  littore  Asise  Minoris 
versus  occasum,  et  ferme  etiam  meridiem,  ut  illic 
transeundum  fuerit  navigantibus  ex  Syria  aut 

k  k  3 


502 


iEgypto,  in  Grseciam,  Macedonian]/  et  Pontum,  ac 
contra ;  at  item  ex  Asia  minore  Romam,  et  vicissim. 
Sicut  et  ipse  Apostolus  saepe  proficiscens  in  Macedo¬ 
nian!  aut  Grseciam,  et  iterum  rediens,  illic  transivit. 
Eisdem  commoditatibus,  ac  occasionibus,  verisimile 
est  ipsum  quoque  Johannem  Evangelistam  motum, 
ut  ibi  diutissime,  sicut  omnes  sacri  historici  scribunt, 
docuerit,  atque  adeo  etiam  ibidem  consenuerit,  mortu- 
usque  sit/  * 

It  strikes  me,  that  some  particulars  in  the  above 
may  be  better  accounted  for,  than  Sebastian  Castalio 
knew  any  thing  about.  On  your  hypothesis,  there  is 
a  great  cause  for  St.  Paul's  long,  laborious,  perilous 
labours  ;  and  for  St.  John’s  latest  exertions,  his  old 
age,  and  his  death,  at  the  place,  which  was  the 
metropolis  of  sublime,  and  pure,  philosophical  Chris¬ 
tianity. 

Yours  ever  most  affectionately, 

John  Jebb. 

*  Ephesus  was  a  commercial  city,  exceedingly  populous  and  wealthy,  inso¬ 
much  that  it  is  styled  by  Pliny,  ‘  the  second  metropolis  of  Asia  Minor.  ’  Here, 
as  at  Corinth,  the  Apostle,  moved  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  laboured  long,  assidu¬ 
ously,  and  with  imminent  risk  to  himself,  for  the  conversion  of  its  inhabit¬ 
ants  :  chiefly  on  the  two  following  accounts  :  because,  as  well  by  reason  of  the 
magnitude  and  mercantile  character  of  the  place,  as  of  the  facilities  which  it 
afforded  of  ready  access  by  sea,  such  multitudes  resorted  thither  from  all  quar¬ 
ters,  that  it  was  in  his  power  both  to  teach  and  convert  numbers  "on  the  spot, 
and,  also,  by  the  instrumentality  of  these  converts,  to  propagate  the  Gospel  far 
and  wide  through  the  world.  For  Ephesus  is  seated  at  the  extremity  of  the 
western  coast  of  Asia  Minor,  trending  towards  the  south ;  so  that,  on  the  one 
hand,  voyagers  to  and  fro,  between  Syria  or  Egypt,  and  Greece,  Macedon,  and 
Pontus,  necessarily  touched  there ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  this  port  was  the 
grand  point  of  inter-communication  between  Asia  Minor  and  Rome.  Accord¬ 
ingly,  we  find  the  Apostle  himself,  in  his  frequent  passages  back  and  forward 
between  Asia  Minor,  and  Macedonia,  or  Greece,  generally  taking  Ephesus  in  his 
way.  It  was  most  probably,  too,  the  same  local  causes  and  circumstances, 
which  induced  Saint  John  the  Evangelist  (according  to  the  universal  consent  of 
ecclesiastical  history)  not  only  to  reside  at  Ephesus  for  so  long  a  period,  but 
even  to  protract  his  residence  to  extreme  old  age,  and  to  close  his  life  in  that 
city. 


LETTER  70. 


To  the  Rev,  J,  Jehh, 


March  8.  1809, 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  say  a  word,  in  reply  to  your  last,  less  expeditiously 
than  I  could  have  wished. 

I  have  two  additional  observations  to  make  on  the 
sermon.  I  am  not  clear,  that  to  speak  of  ‘  loving 
God  for  his  own  sake  ;  and  not  primarily,  on  account 
of  any  benefits  that  we  have  received,  that  we  do 
receive,  or  that  we  hope  hereafter  to  receive,  at  his 
hands’,  &c.  is,  on  the  whole,  an  eligible,  or  even 
strictly  tenable  way,  of  exhibiting  the  truth  on  this 
great  subject.  I  am  well  aware  of  the  sanction  of 
great  names,  and  good  hearts,  which  it  has.  But  I 
see  it  has  been  greatly  abused  ;  and  that,  as  I  con¬ 
ceive,  not  by  distorting  it,  but  by  pressing  its  libe¬ 
rality.  I  think  every  valuable  end  would  be  safely 
answered,  by  showing,  that  our  love  is  not  genuine, 
if  it  be  on  account  of  any  earthly  benefit ;  or  even 
any  supposed  eternal  benefit,  which  is  not  of  a  moral, 
or  spiritual  nature.  This  strikes  me  as  the  safest, 
and  truest  line ;  since,  to  delight  in  any  thing,  is, 
radically  and  essentially,  to  feel  conscious  benefit  in 
it ;  the  apprehension  that  it  is  good  in  itself,  im¬ 
plying,  I  conceive,  that  it  is,  if  not  individually, 
generally  good  to  us.  I  simply  think,  that  the  sense 
of  good  is  fundamental  to  the  apprehension  of  good  ; 

K  K  4< 


504 


there  must  be  the  aio-Qrjo-ig,  before  there  can  be  the 
vo7}[xa.  Abstract  truth  has  nothing  to  do  with  feeling. 
Good  can  no  more  exist,  without  being  felt,  than 
light,  without  being  seen,  or  sound,  without  being 
heard.  But  to  feel  good,  is  essentially  to  feel  good 
for  me,  4  As  reason’,  says  Bishop  Butler,  4  tends  to, 
and  rests  in  the  discernment  of  truth,  so  the  very 
nature  of  affection,  consists  in  tending  towards,  and 
resting  on  its  objects,  as  an  end’,  &c.  ;  as  he  adds 
soon  after,  4  being  gratified  in  the  same  way,  as  the 
appetite  of  hunger  is  satisfied  with  food’,  and  there¬ 
fore,  says  he  farther,  4  it  is  absurd  to  ask,  in  this 
case,  what  advantage  a  man  hath  in  such  a  course  ? 
The  advantage  consists  in  the  delight  itself,  which 
arises  from  such  a  faculty’s  having  its  object.’  On 
this  ground,  then,  it  is  evident,  that  there  can  be  no 
idea  formed  of  love,  which  does  not  contain  the  idea 
of  benefit  to  him  that  loves.  The  delight  of  love, 
being  the  very  wing  on  which  it  rises ;  and  to  be 
delightful,  being,  in  moral  intelligences,  identically 
the  same  as  to  be  lovely. 

I  know  you  did  not  mean  to  controvert  one  tittle 
of  all  this  :  knowing  this,  therefore,  I  submit  to  you, 
whether  it  would  not  always  be,  both  sounder  in 
itself,  and  more  intelligible  to  those  that  hear,  to 
show  the  purity  and  sublimity  of  the  benefit,  in  this 
case  looked  for  and  prized  ;  than  to  throw  benefit, 
even  ‘primarily’,  out  of  view.  I  like  to  hear  Jona¬ 
than  Edwards  speak  in  this  way  to  calvinists  ;  because 
their  extreme,  needs  another  extreme,  to  produce  a 
temperament :  but,  though  it  may  be,  occasionally 
and  relatively,  useful  in  controversy ;  I  do  not  think 
it  good  for  unsophisticated  nature.  This  is  taught, 
by  all  its  instinctive,  as  well  as  reflective  movements. 


505 


to  unite  benefit  and  loveliness,  in  an  indissoluble 
band.  And,  after  all  that  the  good  mystics  have 
done,  to  counteract  nature,  in  this  instance,  the  pro¬ 
found  Butler  comes,  and,  as  I  take  it,  silences  them, 
and  seals  the  indissolubility. 

In  fact,  I  know  not  a  more  practically  pernicious 
error,  (I  enlarge,  not  because  you  need  it,  but  because 
I  like  the  subject ;)  I  say,  I  know  not  any  more  per¬ 
nicious  practical  error,  (I  have  misplaced  my  two 
words,  it  does  not  signify,)  than  unconditional  pulling 
down  of  selfishness.  The  more  I  consider  human 
nature,  and  the  sphere  of  action  in  which  it  is 
placed,  the  more  convinced  I  am,  that  we  cannot 
be  too  selfish,  if  we  are  selfish  in  a  right  way.  We 
cannot,  I  conceive,  desire  that  which  is  supremely 
beneficial,  with  any  excess  of  intensity ;  nor  too 
much  regard  it,  as  beneficial.  In  this  bright  and 
blessed  centre,  lines,  elsewhere  remote,  and  more 
and  more  diverging  as  that  is  receded  from,  so  es¬ 
sentially  unite,  that  to  seek  such  benefit,  is  to  seek 
excellence ;  and  to  be  infinitely  selfish,  is  to  be  ex¬ 
quisitely  pure  and  virtuous.  I  know  well,  how  poor 
self-love  has  been  stigmatized  and  execrated.  But,  if 
she  were  fairly  heard  plead  in  arrest  of  judgment,  I 
think  she  would  yet  come  off  in  triumph.  It  could 
be  shown,  that  the  evils  did  not  arise  from  self  being 
over  loved,  but  from  the  love  of  external  things 
being  misplaced  ;  from  the  narrow  and  scanty  mat¬ 
ters,  being  loved ;  so  narrow  and  scanty,  that  he  who 
solely  possessed  them,  would  be  wretched,  ^Estuat 
infelix,  &c.,  consequently,  when  claimed  by  many, 
what  could  they  produce  but  wars  and  fightings 
among  them  ? 


506 


Fluctuat,  heu,  miser 
Alternaque  potentum 

Mundus  diripitur  manu. 

Punctum  est  sors  avidis  quod  secat  ensibus 

Inter  tot  populos.*  Casimir. 

This  is  the  fact.  Savages  fight  about  their  hunt¬ 
ing  grounds;  but  never  about  air  or  sunshine.  Thus 
the  supreme  and  infinite  good,  cures  all  the  ills 
ascribed  to  selfishness ;  not  by  abating  its  force,  nor 
by  contracting  its  range,  but  by  satisfying  it  to  the 
extent,  and  without  a  possibility  of  any  jarring  inter¬ 
est  ;  there  being  infinitely  enough  for  all,  through 
boundless  eternity. 

The  observation  which  I  made  about  analogy,  and 
was  gratified  by  your  approving,  comes  in  here. 
There  can  be  no  analogy,  as  I  conceive,  between 
any  common  love  on  earth,  and  a  strictly  unselfish 
love  of  God  ;  from  which  cause,  mystics  seldom  con¬ 
vey  a  clear  meaning,  to  the  uninitiated.  But  there  is 
a  most  intelligible  analogy,  between  seeking  a  lower, 
and  a  higher  happiness  ;  between  the  gratification  of 
our  animal,  and  that  of  our  spiritual  nature  ;  between 
endeavouring,  in  vain,  to  find  satisfaction  in  the 
world,  and  the  enjoying  it,  in  its  fulness,  in  God.  In 
all  this,  while  there  would  be  impressive  contrast, 
there  would  be,  also,  instructive  parallelism ;  the 
benefit  of  which  is  lost,  as  it  strikes  me,  when  the 
idea  of  strict  disinterestedness  is  presented. 

I  am  sure  you  will  understand,  that  I  am  not  com¬ 
bating  any  sentiment  of  yours ;  for  you  imply  all  I 
contend  for,  when  you  speak  of  delighting  ourselves  in 

*  This  wretched  world,  a  fluctuating  prize,  .  . 

Sport  of  blind  fortune,  with  the  strongest  lies :  .  . 

A  viewless  point,  which  fate,  with  greedy  sword. 

Parts  ’mong  the  nations  at  ambition’s  word. 


50? 


God,  as  the  synonyme  of  loving  him  for  his  own  sake. 
But,  because  I  so  well  know  your  sentiments,  I  remark 
upon  your  language  ;  in  the  persuasion,  that,  on  a  re¬ 
view  of  the  passage,  you  will  not  greatly  differ  from  me. 

For  instance,  do  you  not  think  that  there  is  some 
jar  between  these  words,  ‘  If,  indeed,  our  love  be 
no  better  than  a  refined  selfishness,  than  a  fond  com¬ 
placency  in  favours,  heaped  on  us’,  and  those  which 
follow  in  the  same  paragraph :  «  But,  if  we  are 

brought  to  delight  in  God,  chiefly,  and  supremely, 
for  the  moral  goodness  of  his  nature,  then,  nothing 
will  satisfy  us,  but  a  participation  of  that  goodness  V 
I  allow,  ‘no  better  than’  and  ‘fond5,  have  a  recon¬ 
ciling  tendency ;  but  still,  to  delight,  I  imagine,  has 
self,  essentially,  in  it ;  and  ‘  not  to  be  satisfied  but 
with  a  participation  ’,  is  selfishness  downright :  ‘  re¬ 
fined  selfishness  ’,  I  grant ;  nobly  and  blessedly  re¬ 
fined  ;  but  still,  selfishness,  the  quintessence  of  sel¬ 
fishness  ;  and  yet,  without  wrong  to  any  fellow-being 
in  the  universe  :  a  soul-exalting  selfishness ;  which,  as 
it  gives  glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  teems  with  peace 
upon  earth,  good  will  amongst  men. 

When  Young  says,  in  his  Night  Thoughts, 

1  My  soul,  which  flies  to  thee,  her  trust,  her  treasure, 

As  misers  to  their  gold,  while  others  rest,’ 

does  he  not  speak  the  strictest  language  of  nature  ? 
And  when  our  Redeemer  speaks  of  treasure  in  the 
heavens,  of  being  rich  toward  God,  of  a  pearl  of 
great  price,  of  one  thing  needful,  of  rest,  of  a  well  of 
water,  &c.,  does  he  not  adopt  a  like  analogy,  and 
build  on  the  same  basis  of  nature ,  that  is,  on  sel¬ 
fishness,  not  weakened,  much  less  extinguished,  but 


508 


refined  and  sublimated,  by  a  transfer,  from  baseness 
to  excellence,  from  the  imprisonment  of  the  carnal 
mind,  to  the  immensity  of  uncreated  good.  Surely, 
not  to  be  satisfied  without  a  participation  of  this,  is  a 
thirsting  ejusdem  generis  with  any  loan-taker’s  appe¬ 
tite  for  wealth,  or  with  any  opposition-man’s  rabies 
for  power  ;  with  the  difference,  only,  of  a  lower,  and 
higher  appetite ;  a  degrading,  and  an  exalting  ob¬ 
ject,  equally,  in  both  cases :  but  <ppovr)[jL<x 

rye  voLpxog,  in  the  one :  (^povr^ot  rou  7tvsi>[j.oltos,  in  the 
other. 

Now  this  I  take  to  be  in  strict  congruity  with  the 
analogical  system.  And  it  is  accordingly  remarkable, 
that  the  great  discoverer  of  this  system,  is  also  the 
detecter  of  the  mistakes  about  selfishness ;  that  is,  he 
shows,  that  selfishness  has  exactly  as  great  a  place, 
in  the  exercise  of  love  to  God,  and  benevolence  to 
man,  as  it  has  in  our  love  to,  or  pursuit  of,  any  other 
external  object;  and  conversely,  may  have  as  little 
room  in  our  pursuit  of  a  common  external  object,  as 
in  our  love  of  God,  or  of  our  neighbour.  ‘There 
have  been  persons’,  says  he,  ‘in  all  ages,  who  have 
professed,  that  they  found  satisfaction  in  the  pursuit 
of  what  is  just,  and  right,  and  good,  as  the  general 
bent  of  their  mind,  and  end  of  their  life  ;  and  that 
doing  an  action  of  baseness  or  cruelty,  would  be  as 
great  violence  to  their  self,  as  much  breaking  in  on 
their  nature,  as  any  external  force.’ 

The  selfishness,  therefore,  which  you  protest  against, 

I  do  not  take  to  be  ‘  refined  selfishness  ’ ;  for,  on 
Butler’s  principles,  I  conceive  this  a  radical  ingredient, 
in  all  that  is  interesting,  or  exalting:  but  a  self-de- 
ceptious  substitution  of  a  lower,  and  indeed,  imaginary 
good,  in  the  place  of  the  highest,  and  all  perfect  good; 


509 


in  the  mistaking  an  animal  complacency  in  the  one, 
for  spiritual  delight  in  the  other. 

If,  in  reading  these  remarks,  you  should  find  any¬ 
thing  that  startles  you,  or  seems  to  jar  with  any  moral 
truth ;  remember,  I  am  not  describing  what  is  ac¬ 
tually  felt,  but  I  am  attempting  to  analyze  the  meta¬ 
physical  matter  of  the  feeling.  If  selfishness  were  to 
be  as  much  in  view,  as  it  is  in  existence  and  oper¬ 
ation,  it  would  defeat  its  own  instinctive  object. 
There  could  be  no  love  of  any  thing ;  all  would  be 
cold  calculation.  ‘  ’T  is  not  because  we  love  our¬ 
selves  says  Butler,  ‘  that  we  find  delight  in  such 
and  such  objects  ;  but  because  we  have  particular 
affections  towards  them.  Take  away  these  affections, 
and  you  leave  self-love  absolutely  nothing  at  all  to 
employ  itself  about ;  no  end,  or  object  for  it  to  pursue, 
excepting  only,  that  of  avoiding  pain.’  Reflective 
self-love,  then,  would  be  absolutely  self-obstructive, 
if  not  self-destructive.  On  the  other  hand,  rightly 
directed  self-love,  is  regulative.  In  a  word,  my 
notion  is,  not  that  the  evil  you  guard  against,  (of  an 
imaginary  love  of  God,  on  low  and  sordid  accounts) 
is  not  a  real  case,  as  well  as  real  evil ;  but  that  it  may 
be  better  corrected,  by  exposing  the  falseness  of  the 
object,  than  by  condemning  the  nature  of  the  feeling. 
In  the  former,  the  mind  would  be  set  right,  if  it 
could  be  set  right.  In  the  latter  way,  it  will  be,  in 
all  probability,  taken  out  of  its  depth  ;  and,  to  a  moral 
certainty,  not  benefitted  ;  for,  in  whatever  mind,  it 
is  subtle  thought  which  is  thus  excited,  rather  than 
sound  feeling.  When  I  say,  ‘by  exposing  the  false¬ 
ness  of  the  object5,  I  mean,  ‘exposure  by  contrast, 
as  well  as  by  direct  detection.’ 

I  hope  I  am  not  tiring,  nor  teazing  you,  by,  per¬ 
haps,  going  out  of  my  own  depths,  and  pretending 


510 


to  draw  the  bow  of  Ulysses  ;  but  I  own  I  am  excited 

on  this  subject  by - ’s  last  charity  sermon.  I  forget 

whether  I  told  you  of  it,  but.I  think  I  did.  With  him, 
selfishness  was,  in  such  a  manner,  all  vice,  and  affec¬ 
tion  to  our  kind,  all  virtue,  as,  apparently,  to  leave 
things  in  possible  good  condition,  though  there  were 
but  our  own  coterie  in  the  universe.  Atheism  is  a 
terrible  thought ;  and,  therefore,  I  do  not  like  to 
throw  on  any  man’s  theory,  so  foul  an  imputation ; 
especially,  when,  in  fact,  far  from  that  man’s 
thoughts.  But,  in  the  talk  I  refer  to,  there  was  no 
explicit  pointing  to  God,  on  the  one  hand ;  nor  any 
direct,  and  decided  reprobation  of  that  embodying 
and  embruting  of  the  soul,  which  is  the  true  anti¬ 
pode  to  pure  and  undefiled  religion,  on  the  other : 
but  such  a  crude  condemnation  of  selfish  feelings,  as 
to  bring  even  devotional  pleasure  into  suspicion ;  and 
such  an  exaltation  of  benevolence,  as  to  make  it  not 
only  the  sole  heaven  upon  earth,  but  the  very  heaven 
of  heaven. 

And  why  all  this  ?  c  Because  ’,  said  he  to  me  a 
day  or  two  after,  ‘  I  do  think,  I  exercise  more  reli¬ 
gion  in  kissing  my  child,  than  in  all  the  fine  feelings 
you  talk  about :  for,  if  I  even  feel  these  in  my  closet, 
I  am  not  three  minutes  in  the  world,  till  they  are 

dissipated.’  So  then  because - finds  no  difficulty 

in  kissing  his  child,  but  a  great  difficulty  in  retaining 
devotional  feeling;  the  latter  is  to  be  voted  down, 
and  the  former  to  take  its  place.  If  this  were  not  so 
easily  detected,  I  should  be  ready  to  call  it  one  of 

the  depths  of  Satan.  How - will  emerge,  I  know 

not,  or  what  resting  place  he  will  find;  but  I  suspect 
his  long  visit  to  Dublin,  and  living  with  his  old 
friends,  unbraced  the  habits  he  had  seemed  to  ac¬ 
quire  at - .  This  ought,  eventually,  to  do  him 


511 


good,  if  he  could  be  brought  to  see  his  real  defici¬ 
ency.  ‘  Who  is  he  that  overcometh  the  world,  but 
he  that  belie veth  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son  of 
God?’  On  which,  how  well  says  Basil,  fS2g  [aev  ouu 
utog,  (pv(nxcog  xexty]tcli  rot  tod  iroLT^og'  fAovoysvyg,  oXa 
£%si  sv  EoevTip  cnAAa(oW,  ouSsuog  xarci/j,Egi£o[jis>ou  7 rpog 

ETEQOV,  st*  OLOTTjg  TOIVUV  TYjg  mOV  7TpOCTr)yOQtOig  $$Ol(nCO[JLE6oL, 
on  rrjg  cpvfrsmg  e(tti  xoivcovog'  ou  7r^o(rrayfJioiTi  XTior^sig, 
aXX*  sx  T7]g  oua’iag  sxTiOt^ctg  ol$  iolct  rear  cog  .*  I  believe  it 
ever  has  been,  and  ever  will  be  made  good :  on  the 
one  hand,  c  He  that  gathereth  not  with  me,  scat- 
tereth5 ;  and  on  the  other,  ‘  I  am  the  door ;  by  me, 
if  any  man  enter  in,  he  shall  be  saved,  and  shall  go 
in  and  out,  and  find  pasture5:  Kou  ekte7^e\j(tetou, 
xoLi  s^e’Ksvg’stcu,  xcu  vofj.7)v  EvpY](TEi.  What  a  depth 
of  meaning  there  is  in  these  words !  What  a  pleni¬ 
tude  of  liberty,  and  certainty  of  provision !  The 
two  symphonious  words  clearly  mean,  what  no  merely 
conscientious  person,  nor  even,  I  should  think,  a  sec¬ 
tarian  religionist,  can  understand ;  for  the  merely 
conscientious  Christian,  does  not  go  in  ;  and  the  sec¬ 
tarian  religionist,  does  not  come  out.  To  find  pas¬ 
ture,  seems  to  me  to  signify,  (what  is  perfectly 
accordant)  that  such  a  one  is  not,  like  the  merely 
conscientious,  at  a  loss  for  pasture,  without  finding 
it,  or  understanding  the  want :  nor,  like  the  sectarian, 
dependent  upon  place  and  person  for  being  fed ;  but 
he  finds  pasture  for  himselfi  and  finds  it,  more  or  less, 
every  where. 


*  As  Son,  therefore,  he  possesses  by  nature  the  things  of  his  Father :  but, 
as  only-begotten  Son,  he  rightfully  monopolizes,  in  his  own  person,  the  whole 
patrimony  ;  dividing  no  part  of  the  inheritance  with  any  other.  From  this  very 
appellation  of  Son,  consequently,  we  learn,  that  he  is  a  partaker  of  the  divine 
nature  ;  not  called  into  being  by  creation,  but  shining  forth,  indivisibly,  from  the 
substance  of  the  Godhead. 


512 


‘  Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 

Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  every  thing.’ 

Bat  in  whom  was  this  ever  verified,  but  in  a  catholic 
Christian  ? 

I  must,  however,  trouble  you  a  little  farther,  on 
selfishness.  I  am,  not  only  now  especially,  but,  at 
all  times,  habitually  on  the  alert,  against  the  unana- 
logical  view ;  because  1  see,  that  it  has  served  an  evil 
purpose  among  one  class,  as  effectually,  as  the  gross¬ 
est  antinomian  Calvinism  has  done  in  another.  Even 
in  the  hands  of  the  amiable  Eenelon,  what  anodynes 
does  it  not  enable  him  to  give,  to  slothful,  self-indul¬ 
gent,  I  would  almost  say,  semi-christians  ?  I  mean 
not  to  judge,  what  I  can  only  conjecture  ;  and  I  do 
not  mean  to  question,  that,  in  Fenelon,  there  are  fine 
observations,  proceeding  from  noble  feelings,  every 
where  occurring ;  but,  when  I  hear  him  say,  in  one 
letter,  4  Vous  savez  qu’il  faut  porter  la  croix,  et  la 
porter  en  pleines  t6n£bres.  Le  parfait  amour,  ne 
cherche,  ni  a  voir,  ni  a  sentir.  II  est  content  de 
souffrir,  sans  savoir  s’il  souffre  bien ;  et  d’aimer,  sans 
savoir  s’il  aime.  O  que  Pabandon,  sans  aucun  retour, 
ni  repli  cache,  est  pur,  et  digne  de  Dieu !  11  est  lui 

seul  plus  d6truisant,  que  mille  et  mille  vertus  aust&res, 
et  soutenues,  d’une  r6gularit6  apei^ue. 

4  Soyez  simple  et  petit  enfant.  C’est  dans  l’enfance 
qu’habite  la  paix  inalterable,  et  a  toute  epreuve. 
Toutes  les  r6gularit6s  ou  Pon  poss&de  sa  vertu,  sont 
sujettes  a  Pillusion,  et  au  m6compte.  11  n’y  a  que 
les  ames  desappropri6es  par  P abnegation  evangeiique, 
qui  n’ont  plus  rien  a  perdre.  II  n’y  a  que  ceux,  qui 
ne  cherchent  aucune  lumifere,  qui  ne  se  trompent 
point.  II  n’y  a  que  les  petits  enfans,  qui  trouvent 


513 


en  Dieu  la  sagesse,  qui  n’est  point  dans  les  grands  et 
les  sages  qu’on  admire.’ 

I  say,  when  I  read  this  very  amazing  talk  in  one 
letter ;  and  in  another,  4  Cherchez  a  vous  amuser  a 
toutes  les  choses  qui  peuvent  adoucir  votre  solitude, 
et  vous  garantir  de  1’ ennui,  sans  vous  passioner,  ni 
dissiper,  par  le  gout  du  monde.’,  Or,  as  elsewhere, 
c  II  ne  faut  pourtant  pas  tellement  se  taire,  que  vous 
manquiez  d’ouverture  et  de  complaisance  dans  les 
recreations,  mais  alors  il  ne  faut  parler  que  de  choses 
a-peu-prhs  indifF6rentes,  et  supprimer  tout  ce  qui 
peut  avoir  quelque  consequence.  II  faut,  dans  ces 
recr6ations,  ce  que  St.  Francois  de  Sales  appelle,  joy- 
eusete ;  c’est  a  dire  se  rejouir,  et  rejouir  les  autres, 
en  disant  des  riens.’  Without  putting  any  severity 
of  construction  on  these  latter  passages,  I  seem  to 
myself  to  see,  nay  am  confident  I  do  see,  a  depth  of 
self-deception,  and  serpentine  seduction :  for  ob¬ 
serve,  the  tastes  of  our  higher  nature  must  be  all 
rooted  up ;  while  the  tastes  of  our  lower  nature  are 
still  suffered,  in  a  certain  degree,  to  grow.  No  plea¬ 
sure  must  be  sought  in  piety ;  because,  to  be  content 
to  love,  without  knowing  that  one  loves,  is  the  height 
of  perfection ;  and  because,  c  c’est  dans  l’oubli  du 
moi,  qu’habite  la  paix’j  but,  at  the  same  time,  plea¬ 
sure  may  be  taken,  and  very  frivolous  pleasure,  (en 
disant  des  riens !)  in  things  of  the  world,  because 
this  is  needful  for  human  weakness,  and  ‘  pour  vous 
garantir  de  l’ennui.’  From  this,  then,  what  can 
follow,  according  to  every  law  of  nature,  but  radi¬ 
cally  growing  heart-attachment,  to  what  does  give 
actual  pleasure ;  and  more  radically  growing  heart- 
detachment,  from  that  which  gives  none  ? 

After  hearing  such  things,  how  refreshing  that 
right  and  sound  sentiment  of  Saurin.  e  Heureux  le 

VOL.  i. 


L  L 


5 14 

fiddle,  qui  dans  les  combats  que  lui  livrent  Ies  enne- 
mis  de  son  salut,  peut  opposer  plaisirs  a  plaisirs, 
delices  a  delices ;  les  plaisirs  de  la  priere,  et  de  la 
meditation,  aux  plaisirs  du  monde  ;  les  d61ices  du 
silence,  et  de  la  retraite,  a  celles  des  cercles,  des 
dissipations,  des  spectacles  !  Un  tel  homme  est  jeune 
dans  ses  devoirs,  meme  parcequ’il  est  homme  ;  et 
qu’il  ne  depend  pas  d’un  homme,  de  ne  pas  aimer, 
ce  qui  lui  ouvre  des  sources  de  joie :  un  tel  homme, 
s’attache,  a  la  religion,  par  des  motifs  semblables  k 
ceux,  qui  portent  les  gens  du  monde  a  s’attacher  aux 
objets  de  leurs  passions ;  parcequ’ elles  leur  pro- 
curent  des  plaisirs  ineffables.  Un  tel  homme,  ne 
peut  jamais  succomber  entierement,  sous  les  tenta- 
tions ;  parceque,  selon  l’6nergique  expression  d’un 
apotre,  la  paix  de  Dieu,  qui  est  au-dessus  de  tout 
entendement,  garde,  c’est  a  dire,  preserve  les  sens, 
et  empeche,  par  les  delectations  dont  elles  Pinonde, 
qu’ils  ne  l’entrainent  dans  le  crime.’ 

I  must  return  to  F6nelon  ;  that  I  may  mention 
something,  perhaps  not  unconnected  with  those 
strange  quotations. 

Voltaire  concludes  his  chapter  on  quietism,  in  his 
Si&cle  de  Louis  XIV.,  with  the  following  curious 
statement. 

‘  Aprks  avoir  ete  vaincu  sur  des  disputes  de  l’ecole, 
il  eut  6t6  peut-etre  plus  convenable,  qu’il  ne  se  melat 
point  des  querelles  du  jansenisme ;  cependant  il  y 
entra.  Le  Cardinal  de  Noailles  avoit  pris  contre  lui, 
autrefois,  le  parti  du  plus  fort.  L’Arch6v&que  de 
Cambrai  en  usa  de  meme.  Il  esp6ra  qu’il  revien- 
drait  a  la  cour,  et  qu’il  y  seroit  consulte :  tant  l’6sprit 
humain  a  de  peine  a  se  detacher  des  affaires,  quand 
une  fois  elles  ont  servi  d’aliment  a  son  inquietude. 
Ses  d6sirs,  cependant,  etoient  mod6r6s  comme  ses 


515 


Merits ;  et  meme  sur  la  fin  cle  sa  vie,  il  m^prisa  enfin 
toutes  les  disputes  ;  semblable,  en  cela  seul,  a  l’ev&- 
que  d’Avranches,  Huet,  l’un  des  plus  savans  homines 
de  PEurope ;  qui,  sur  la  fin  de  ses  jours,  reconnut  la 
vanite  de  la  plupart  des  sciences,  et  celles  de  l’6sprit 
humain.  L’Arch6veque  de  Cambrai  (qui  le  croiroit!) 
parodie  ainsi  un  air  de  Lulli : 

4  Jeune,  j’etois  trop  sage, 

Et  voulois  trop  savoir  ; 

Je  ne  veux  en  partage, 

Que  badinage, 

Et  touclie  au  dernier  age, 

Sans  rien  prevoir.’ 

4  II  fit  ces  vers  en  presence  de  son  neveu,  le  Mar* 
quis  de  Fenelon,  depuis  ambassadeur  k  la  Haie.  C’esfc 
de  lui  que  je  les  tiens.  Je  garantie  la  certitude  de 
ce  fait.  II  seroit  peu  important  par  lui-m&me,  s’il 
ne  prouvoit  a  quel  point  nous  voions  souvent  avec 
des  regards  differens,  dans  la  triste  tranquillity  de  la 
vieillesse,  ce  qui  nous  parut  si  grand,  et  si  interessant, 
dans  Page  oii  l’esprit  plus  actif  est  le  jouet  de  ses 
d^sirs,  et  de  ses  illusions/ 

Did  the  crafty  wiliness  of  this  son  of  the  Serpent, 
ever  more  cordially  disport  itself,  than  in  recording 
this  pen  important  anecdote  ? 

Mark  how  every  sentence,  and  almost  every  word, 
is  made  to  tell  in  favour  of  his  infernal  purpose.  I 
have  seen  this  little  poem  disputed  by  some  one ;  on 
the  ground  of  its  being  incredible,  that  such  a  thing 
could  have  been  written  by  Fenelon.  It  is  incre¬ 
dible,  that  he  should  have  written  any  thing,  with 
such  a  meaning,  as  Voltaire  would  attribute  to  this; 
and  as  the  words  seem  to  warrant,  if  interpreted  au 
pied  de  la  lettre.  But,  that  he  might  have  written 
these  lines  on  some  occasion,  at  a  less  considerate 

l  l  2 


<516 


moment,  would  appear  probable,  from  their  strange 
agreement  with  some  of  the  sentiments  quoted  above. 
For  example,  with  the  first  two  lines :  4  II  n’y  a  que 
ceux  qui  ne  cherchent  aucune  lumibre,  qui  ne  se 
trompent  point’ ;  with  the  next  two,  4  Se  r^jouir,  et 
r6jouir  les  autres,  en  disant  des  riens’  :  and  with  the 
last  two,  4  II  est  content  d’ aimer,  sans  savoir  s’il  aime’ ; 
therefore,  necessarily,  *  sans  rien  pr6voir.’  Is  not 
this  very  curious  ? 

I  do  not  know  whether  William  Law,  may  not  be 
thought  to  have  outdone  Fenelon,  in  depth  of  spi¬ 
ritual  apathy.  His  little  work  on  regeneration,  (that 
is,  against  Mr.  Wesley’s  view  of  regeneration)  con¬ 
tains  most  extraordinary  protests,  against  seeking  for 
any  thing  in  religion,  but  implicit  abandonment  of 
every  thing. 

4  The  sacrifices’,  says  he,  4  which  we  make  of 
worldly  goods,  honours,  or  pleasures,  are  but  small 
matters ;  compared  to  that  sacrifice,  and  destruction 
of  all  selfishness,  as  well  spiritual  as  natural,  that 
must  be  made,  before  our  regeneration  hath  its  per¬ 
fect  work. 

4  There  is  a  denial  of  our  own  will,  and  certain 
degrees  even  of  self-denying  virtues,  which  yet  give 
no  disturbance  to  this  selfishness.  To  be  humble, 
mortified,  devout,  patient,  to  a  certain  degree ;  and 
to  be  persecuted  for  our  virtues,  are  no  hurt  to  this 
selfishness ;  nay,  spiritual  self,  must  have  all  these 
virtues  to  subsist  upon ;  and  his  life  consists,  in  see¬ 
ing,  knowing,  and  feeling,  the  bulk,  strength,  and 
reality  of  them.  But  still,  in  all  this  show,  and 
glitter  of  virtue,  there  is  an  unpurified  bottom  on 
which  they  stand ;  there  is  a  selfishness,  which  can 
no  more  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  than  the 
grossness  of  flesh  and  blood  can  enter  into  it. 


517 


*  To  know  no  more,  and  to  seek  to  know  no  more 
of  our  salvation,  than  we  can  know  by  an  implicit 
faith,  and  absolute  resignation  of  ourselves  to  God, 
in  Christ  Jesus,  is  the  true  saving  knowledge  of 
Christ ;  and  such  as  keeps  us  in  the  highest  degree 
of  fitness,  to  receive  our  perfect  salvation. 

<  I  believe  that,  to  repentance  and  faith  in  Christ, 
salvation  is  made  as  secure,  and  as  absolutely  assured, 
as  paradise  was  made  sure  to  the  dying  thief.  I  be¬ 
lieve  that  my  own  sins,  were  they  greater,  and  more, 
than  the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  would  be  wholly 
expiated,  and  taken  away,  by  my  faith  in  the  blood 
and  life  of  my  blessed  Saviour. 

‘  But,  if  I  now  want  to  add  something  of  my  own 
to  this  faith  ;  if  this  great  and  glorious  faith  is  de¬ 
fective,  and  saves  me  not,  till  I  can  add  my  own 
sense,  and  my  own  feeling  to  it,  at  such  a  time,  and 
in  such  a  manner ;  is  not  this  saying,  in  the  plainest 
manner,  that  faith,  alone,  cannot  justify  me  ?  Is  not 
this  making  this  faith  in  the  blood  of  Christ  defective, 
and  insufficient  to  my  salvation,  till  a  self-satisfaction, 
an  own  pleasure,  an  own  taste,  are  joined  with  it? 
Might  it  not  better  be  said,  that  faith  could  not 
justify  me,  till  it  had  works ;  than  that  it  cannot  jus¬ 
tify  me,  without  these  inward  workings,  feelings, 
witnessings,  of  my  own  mind,  sense,  imagination  ? 
Is  there  not  likely  to  be  a  more  hurtful  self-trust,  a 
more  dangerous  self-deceit,  in  making  faith  to  de¬ 
pend  upon  these  inward  workings  and  feelings,  than 
in  making  it  depend  upon  outward  good  works  of 
our  own  ?’ 

In  this  last  passage,  you  will  observe  some  things 
objected  to,  or  implied  to  be  objected  to,  in  Mr. 
Wesley’s  system,  which,  doubtless,  admitted  of  ani¬ 
madversion  :  but,  into  what  a  wonderfully  opposite 

l  l  3 


518 

extreme  does  he  run  ?  And  how  completely  is  the 
whole  tenour  of  Scripture  lost  sight  of?  Assuredly, 
if  these  doctrines  be  true,  our  Redeemer,  and  his 
apostles,  taught  a  far  lower  kind  of  religion,  than 
that  discovered,  and  taught,  by  Mr.  Law.  In  truth, 
there  are  no  teachers,  on  whom  Mr.  Law’s  denounce¬ 
ments  would  fall  more  heavily,  than  on  those  who 
teach  us  in  the  Bible. 

What  is  curious,  is,  that  thus,  Law  and  Walker 
come  to  speak,  substantially,  in  unison.  After  seve¬ 
rally  circum-ambulating  the  globe,  they  meet  at 
length,  and  take  their  stand  on  the  same  meridian. 

4  Believing  on  him’,  (the  Lord  Jesus  Christ)  says 
Mr.  Walker,  4  with  the  heart  trusting  in  him,  as  he  is 
exhibited  in  the  Gospel,  the  Saviour  of  his  people 
from  their  sins,  the  Scriptures  warrant  me  to  trust  in 
him,  with  the  fullest  confidence  ;  to  trust  in  him,  as 
my  righteousness  and  strength,  and  to  know,  that 
eternal  life  is  mine,  as  the  gift  of  God  in  him  ;  and 
this,  without  any  supplementary  revelation,  or  new 
voice  from  heaven,  to  announce  to  me  that  I  am 
justified.  A  voice,  indeed,  there  is,  but  it  is  in  the 
word  of  God;  which,  through  all  its  sacred  pages,  in 
the  Old  Testament  and  in  the  New,  gives  the  divine 
testimony  to  the  Son  of  God  and  man,  as  the  only, 
the  all-sufficient,  the  faithful  Saviour  of  all,  who  be¬ 
lieve  upon  his  name.  By  that  precious  faith  of  him, 
the  Christian  is  called  to  walk  ;  not  by  sight,  not  by 
sense,  not  by  feeling.’ 

In  another  place,  Mr.  W.  says,  (no  less  in  unison) 

4  In  every  religious  system  which  has  self  for  its 
fundamental  principle,  the  world  can  find  something 
to  approve,  and  something  which  it  understands. 
But  the  Gospel,  which  proposes  a  foundation  for  the 
sinner’s  hope,  altogether  out  qf  himself,  is,  on  this 


519 


account,  peculiarly  offensive  to  the  world,  and  pecu¬ 
liarly  unintelligible.’ 

I  add  no  more  in  the  way  of  quotation  ;  as  this 
last  one  states  the  case  for  the  whole  genus,  fairly 
and  well.  And  to  what,  finally,  does  it  come,  but  to 
this ;  that  common  sense,  is  felt  to  be  the  common 
enemy  of  all  such  transcendentalists  ;  and  that,  whe¬ 
ther  they  feel  it  or  not,  in  attacking  common  sense, 
they  attack  all  substantial,  solid  virtue  ;  all  that  can 
make  Holy  Scripture  intelligible,  principles  steady, 
life  regular,  reflection  useful  and  comfortable  ;  all,  in 
a  word,  which  either  elicits,  or  feeds  those  thoughts, 
a  few  of  which,  as  Burnet  so  well  tells  us,  ‘  spread 
strength  into  the  mind,  by  which  it  is  made  capable 
of  doing,  or  suffering,  the  hardest  things  ;  through 
that  life  which  they  give,  and  that  calm  which  they 
bring.’ 

I  have  said  quite  enough  on  one  point ;  I  now 
briefly  touch  on  another.  You  say,  it  is  a  remark¬ 
able  circumstance,  that  there  is  not  any  stated,  pe¬ 
riodical  time  appointed,  in  the  New  Testament,  for 
private  prayer,  and  you  assign  an,  apparently,  pro¬ 
bable  reason  for  the  omission.  That  such  a  reason 
had  no  share,  is  what  I  will  not  affirm.  But  there 
certainly  was  another  reason,  of  a  different  kind, 
namely,  that  the  habit  of  private  prayer,  had  already 
ample  precedents,  to  direct  and  regulate  it.  Into 
this  reason,  we  have  to  resolve  several  other  omis¬ 
sions  ,  and,  on  the  whole,  we  see  it  a  general  rule, 
that  things  of  the  same  nature  were  to  go  on,  under 
the  Christian,  as  they  had  gone  on,  under  the  jewish 
dispensation.  Now,  we  know  David,  or  the  psalmist, 
says,  ‘ In  the  evening,  and  morning,  and  at  noon¬ 
day,  will  I  pray.’  And,  if  possible,  still  more  de¬ 
cisively,  are  we  told  of  Daniel,  that  he  ‘  kneeled  upon 

l  l  4 


520 


his  knees  three  times  a  day ;  and  prayed,  and  gave 
thanks  before  his  God,  as  he  did  aforetime.’  What 
these  hours  were,  is  matter  of  mere  curiosity  ;  but 
one  of  the  three,  (the  middle  one  of  course)  is  fixed, 
by  St.  Peter  going  up  to  the  house-top  to  pray,  at 
the  sixth  hour.  Most  probably,  the  other  two  times, 
had  corresponded  to  the  morning  and  evening  sacri¬ 
fice.  In  Daniel’s  case,  we  cannot  doubt  it ;  for  the 
same  motive,  which  led  him  to  have  his  window  open 
toward  Jerusalem,  would,  self-evidently,  lead  him,  as 
it  led  Elijah  on  Mount  Carmel,  to  recognize  those 
justly  interesting  seasons.  And,  to  this  keeping  time 
with  the  sacrifices,  we  cannot  hesitate  to  refer,  Cor¬ 
nelius’s  praying  in  his  house,  (an  expression  imply¬ 
ing  statedness,)  at  the  third  hour.  We  find,  however, 
from  St.  Luke  i.  10.  that  it  was  the  incense,  rather 
than  the  sacrifice,  with  which  the  act  of  prayer  was 
connected  ;  and  it  is  a  curious  circumstance,  that 
the  moment  of  offering  the  incense  within,  was  no¬ 
tified  to  those  without,  by  the  tinkling  of  a  little 
bell,  just  as  is  still  done  in  the  service  of  the  mass. 
But  it  is  more  interesting  to  observe,  that  the  con¬ 
nection  between  prayer  and  the  incense,  is  sublimely 
alluded  to  in  Apoc.  viii.  3,  4.  The  sacrifice  was  no 
doubt,  also  kept  in  view,  though  less  immediately, 
in  those  stated  devotional  acts  ;  for  David  connects 
both,  in  his  elegant  simile,  4  Let  my  prayer  be  set 
forth  in  thy  sight,  as  the  incense  ;  and  let  the  lifting 
up  of  my  hands,  be  as  the  evening  sacrifice.’  Mean¬ 
ing,  as  I  conceive,  to  refer  to  his  morning  devotion, 
in  the  first  member  of  the  couplet ;  and  to  his  even¬ 
ing  devotion,  in  the  latter  :  and  to  introduce  the  two 
great  public  acts  connected  with  devotion,  so  as  to 
intimate,  that,  though  there  was  a  connection  with 
both,  it  was  closer  with  the  one  than  with  the  other. 


5%1 


Somewhat  in  this  way,  our  establishment  expresses 
its  connection,  with  both  the  great  divisions  of  the 
Christian  church,  at  large,  by  using  collects  from 
both,  in  its  morning  and  evening  prayer  ;  but  in¬ 
timating  a  closer  connection  with  the  Greek,  than 
with  the  Latin  church,  by  giving  precedence  to  the 
Greek  in  the  morning,  and,  yet,  to  do  equal  justice, 
giving  like  precedence  to  the  Latin  church,  in  the 
evening.  And  when  David  describes  the  public  ser¬ 
vice,  by  the  incense,  in  the  morning,  and  by  the 
sacrifice,  in  the  evening  ;  he,  too,  gives  a  preference, 
but  without  doing  any  injustice. 

The  practice  of  praying  at  the  time  of  incense, 
in  the  private,  though  public  manner,  which  that 
verse  in  St.  Luke  intimates,  and  writers  on  jewish 
usages  describe,  (the  deep  silence  then  prevailing 
through  the  courts,  being  particularly  noticed  by 
them)  would  naturally  form  a  habit  of  praying  at 
the  same  time,  when  at  a  distance ;  and  the  facts 
already  referred  to,  advance  this  supposition  into 
matter  of  certainty.  The  New  Testament  dispensa¬ 
tion  would  take  away  the  motive  for  being  thus 
regular,  as  to  the  morning  and  evening  hour ;  and 
yet,  I  think  it  likely,  that,  in  adjusting  the  times  of 
daily  public  worship,  the  jewish  hours  would  not  be 
wholly  out  of  view.  But,  whatever  might  be  the 
attention,  or  inattention,  paid  to  this  circumstance, 
the  practice  of  praying  thrice  a  day,  after  the  ex¬ 
ample  of  David  and  Daniel,  would  hardly  be  over¬ 
looked,  by  those  who  were  taught  to  find  lessons  of 
piety,  no  less  in  the  Old  Testament,  than  in  the 
New  ;  and  particularly  to  consider  the  Psalms,  as 
formularies  for  the  Christian  church,  no  less  than  for 
the  jewish. 

I  think  I  will  stop  here  :  though  I  had  one  or 


522 

two  remarks  (not  a  bit  connected  with  the  sermon, 
but  a  little  with  some  of  these  latter  observations)  to 
have  added.  But  if  I  do  not  pause  now,  I  cannot 
send  this  to-day.  And  the  matters  I  had  in  my 
thoughts,  will  do  just  as  well  for  another  occasion. 

On  the  whole,  a  very  little  matter  indeed,  and 
that  too,  in  expression,  rather  than  in  any  thing 
else,  has  occasioned  a  longer  letter  from  me,  than 
you  have  had  for  a  long  time.  I  fear  it  may  be 
rather  ill-connected,  for  I  have  been  interrupted 
continually.  But  my  object  has  been  to  give  you, 
at  once,  not  merely  my  objection,  but  the  whole  of 
my  grounds  for  it ;  that  you  might  have  before  you 
all  that  was  in  my  thoughts.  The  truth  is,  I  so 
much  rejoice  in  our  peculiar  property,  (given  to  us 
by  him  who  gives  all)  of  reducing  every  thing  to 
principles  of  common  sense,  (and  yet  not  with  injury 
to,  but  thorough  confirmation  of,  every  catholic 
verity)  that  I  own  myself  jealous  of  every  inch  of 
our  4  fair  ground,  and  goodly  heritage.5  And  will  you 
wonder,  that,  where  you  are  concerned,  or  where 
there  can  be  a  question  respecting  your  plan  of  pro¬ 
ceedings,  involving,  ever  so  slightly,  a  better,  and 
a  less  good  method,  I  should  be  on  the  alert  to  assist 
you  in  fixing  your  eye,  on  whatever  shall  deserve  to 
be  considered  as  the  more  excellent  way? 

Farewell,  my  dear  Friend,  and 

believe  me  ever,  cordially  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


5<23 


LETTER  LXXXL 

To  A.  Knox ,  Esq. 

Cashel,  March  10.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  most  cordially  thank  you  for  your  valuable  ob¬ 
servations  ;  especially  for  your  ample  illustrations  of 
mystical  absurdity,  and  your  very  curious  and  satis¬ 
factory  proofs  that  mysticism  and  Calvinism,  after 
‘  many  a  long-long  wandering’,  meet  at  last.  As  to 
the  passages  in  my  sermon,  they  certainly  require 
modification :  the  expressions  were  not  sufficiently 
guarded ;  and  some  of  them  were  by  no  means  lite¬ 
rally  tenable.  Calvinism,  low  Christianity,  (which, 
though  people  do  not  suspect  it,  is,  in  fact,  low  Cal¬ 
vinism,)  and  especially  Dr.  Faley,  (see  for  example 
his  second  sermon,)  were  chiefly  in  my  view.  And 
I  did  not,  at  the  time,  sufficiently  advert  to  the  op¬ 
posite  errors  of  mysticism ;  which,  you  will  readily 
believe,  is,  and  was,  most  abhorrent,  both  from  my 
thoughts  and  feelings.  But  this,  you  will  admit, 
was  somewhat  natural :  as  the  latter  errors  rarely 
meet  me ;  while  the  former  perpetually  stare  me 
in  the  face.  I  cannot  but  add,  that,  however  low 
and  mercenary  Christianity  may  revolt  me,  it  has 
some  reference  to  real  existence ;  to  what  is  actually 
in  man’s  constitution  ;  whilst  mysticism  is  at  open 
war,  with  all  natural  feeling,  all  substantial  good,  and 
all  common  sense  :  it  is  in  the  clouds. 

Not  a  syllable  in  your  letter  has  ‘tired’,  or  ‘teazed’, 
or  ‘startled’  me  $  or  ‘appeared  to  jar  with  moral 


,524 


truth.9  Most  completely  the  reverse.  I  do  soberly 
think,  that  self-love  necessarily  enters  into  the  com¬ 
position,  of  every  thing  great,  and  good,  and  admir¬ 
able  in  man ;  that,  in  self-love,  there  never  can  be 
excess ;  that,  without  self-love,  there  can  be  no  ra¬ 
tional,  or  deep  love  of  God  j  and  that  self-love  is 
intrinsically  more  noble  and  excellent,  than  benevo¬ 
lence  itself.  If  this  last  be  not  the  case,  why  should 
the  best  and  wisest  of  all  teachers,  make  self-love,  the 
measure  of  love  to  our  neighbour?  The  measure, 
surely,  always  gives  the  idea  of  something  more  per¬ 
fect  than  the  thing  measured ;  the  archetype,  than 
the  resemblance.  We  are  to  be  perfect,  as  God  is 
perfect ;  we  are  to  love  our  neighbour,  as  ourselves  ; 
the  perfection  of  God,  is  not  more  absolutely  made 
the  rule  of  our  perfection,  than  the  love  of  ourselves, 
is  made  the  rule  of  our  love  to  our  neighbours  :  there¬ 
fore,  the  love  of  ourselves,  has  both  the  priority,  as 
to  existence,  and  the  supremacy,  as  to  value,  over 
the  love  of  our  neighbour. 

Still,  however,  I  must  beg  leave  to  doubt  the  pro¬ 
priety  of  your  expressions,  c  that  we  cannot  be  too 
selfish,  if  we  are  selfish  in  a  right  way’ ;  that,  ‘  to  be 
infinitely  selfish,  is  to  be  exquisitely  pure  and  vir¬ 
tuous’  ;  that  there  is  ‘  a  soul-exalting  selfishness’,  &c. 
Observe,  that  I  cannot  discover  in  myself  £  the 
shadow  of  the  shade’  of  dissent,  from  your  principle  ; 
that  I  most  deeply  concur  in  believing  and  feeling 
‘  that  we  cannot  desire  that  which  is  supremely  be¬ 
neficial,  with  any  excess  of  intensity ;  nor  regard  it 
too  much,  as  beneficial.’  I  am  disposed  to  except 
against  your  expressions,  in  what  appears  to  me  a  de¬ 
ficiency  of  philological,  and,  by  easy  inference,  both 
of  philosophical,  and  practical  precision. 

My  notion  is,  that  the  words,  selfish,  and  selfish- 


525 


ness,  should  never  be  used  in  a  good  sense.  I  must 
endeavour  to  give  my  reasons.  It  is  universally  al¬ 
lowed,  that  the  Saxon  word  ISH,  [lpc]  when  joined 
to  an  adjective,  denotes  diminution,  a  small  degree, 
an  incipient  state  of  any  quality :  ‘  When  to  sub¬ 
stantives’,  says  Johnson,  ‘it  imports  similitude,  or 
tendency  to  a  character.’  (Observe,  not  the  very 
nature  of  that  character,  for  I  do  believe  it  never  de¬ 
notes  any  thing  higher  than  approximation.  Hence, 
the  obvious  difference  between  brutzs/z,  and  brutal ; 
sluggish,  and  sluggard  or  sluggardly,  &c.  &c.)  But 
my  chief  observation,  and  which  seems  wholly  to 
have  escaped  Johnson,  is  this,  that  all  words,  (pa- 
tronymicks  excepted,  such  as  Irish,  English,  Spanish, 
&c.)  into  whose  composition  the  ISH  enters,  invari¬ 
ably  give  us  the  idea  of  something  mean,  trifling, 
contemptible,  unworthy,  or  hateful.  I  cannot  find  a 
single  exception,  (can  you  point  one  out?)  whilst 
corroborative  examples  are  most  abundant.  Child- 
ish-ness  ;  foolish-ness  ;  thievish-ness  ;  mawkish-ness  ; 
garish-ness  ;  clownish-ness  ;  sluttish-ness  ;  sluggish¬ 
ness  ;  waspish-ness ;  peevish-ness  ;  snappish-ness ; 
bearish-ness ;  lavish-ness ;  sheepish-ness  ;  boorish¬ 
ness  ;  churlish-ness ;  &c.  &c.  &c.  This  universal 
usage  can,  I  conceive,  be  accounted  for,  only  by  the 
irreversible  meaning  of  the  word  or  particle,  ISH, 
limiting  it  to  a  bad  sense.  Whilst  the  other  ter- 
minative  particles,  al,  ive,  ful,  ous,  eons,  ly,  &c.,  are 
of  common  use,  being  of  common  meaning,  e.  g. 
we  say  hateful,  and  graceful ;  full  signifying  reple¬ 
tion,  and  a  repletion  of  good  or  bad,  being  equally 
possible  j  not  so,  with  the  termination  ISH;  which, 
according  to  my  hypothesis,  must  mean  something- 
diminutive,  contemptible,  defective.  Now,  if  there 
be  any  justice  in  all  this,  why  should  the  words  self- 


526 

ish,  and  selfishness,  make  any  exception  to  the  general 
rule?  I  wish  I  could  ascertain  from  Skinner,  Wallis, 
or  Junius,  the  precise  meaning  of  qx.  For  a  precise 
meaning,  it  surely  must  have. 

Thus  much  is  certain,  that  it  is  the  general  prac¬ 
tice,  in  accordance,  as  I  conceive,  with  strict  philolo¬ 
gical  propriety,  to  annex  a  bad  meaning  to  the  words 
selfish,  and  selfishness  ;  and  I  should  be  loth  to  run 
counter  to  the  current,  from  an  almost  certain  convic¬ 
tion,  that  I  should  be  overwhelmed  by  the  prejudices, 
misapprehensions,  and  alarms,  of  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  those,  with  whom  I  might  have  occasion  to 
talk.  To  speak  of  a  right  selfishness,  and  a  wrong 
selfishness,  a  noble  selfishness,  and  a  base  selfishness, 
is,  in  my  humble  apprehension,  to  talk  obscurely.  I 
would  say,  that  all  self-love  is  right;  all  selfishness, 
wrong :  that  all  self-love  is  noble ;  all  selfishness, 
base :  and  that  selfishness  is  not  more  decidedly 
opposed  to  the  love  of  God,  and  the  love  of  our 
neighbour,  than  it  is  to  the  love  of  ourselves.  My 
great  caution  and  guardedness,  on  this  point,  would 
be,  never  to  use  either  term,  without  letting  it  be 
clearly  seen,  what  is  my  precise  meaning.  This,  I 
conceive,  would  be  to  speak  luminously,  and  without 
leaving  any  probable  room  for  misapprehension.  Let 
a  person  use  the  terms,  self-love,  and  selfishness,  pro¬ 
miscuously  ;  and,  though  his  own  sentiments  and 
conceptions  be  ever  so  just  and  clear,  it  is  an  hun¬ 
dred  to  one,  that  he  will  send  away  his  auditor,  with 
a  perplexed,  unsatisfied,  and  fluctuating  mind.  Let 
the  same  person,  with  precisely  the  same  opinions, 
use  the  terms  distinctively;  and  I  can  hardly  ques¬ 
tion  his  giving  complete  satisfaction,  to  any  hearer  of 
candour,  and  of  decent  apprehension. 

So  far,  then,  as  self-love  is  concerned,  I  cordially 


agree  with  you,  4  that  the  evil  of  an  imaginary  love  of 
God,  on  low  and  mercenary  accounts,  may  be  better 
corrected,  by  exposing  the  falseness  of  the  object, 
than  by  condemning  the  nature  of  the  feeling’.  That 
is,  I  would,  in  no  case  soever,  condemn  the  feeling  of 
self-love;  but  expose  the  universal  odiousness  of  self¬ 
ishness,  by  exposing  the  uniform  falseness  of  its 
object.  But  what  need  I  seek  for  expressions  to 
convey  my  thoughts,  when  you  have  yourself  most 
exquisitely  expressed  them?  ‘  I  know  well’,  you  say, 
‘how  poor  self-love  has  been  stigmatized  and  ex¬ 
ecrated  ;  but,  if  she  were  fairly  heard  plead  in  arrest 
of  judgment,  I  think  she  would  yet  come  off  with 
triumph.’  It  could  be  shown,  that  the  evil  did  not 
arise  from  self  being  loved,  but  from  the  love  of 
external  things  being  misplaced  ;  from  too  narrow 
and  scanty  matters  being  loved ;  so  narrow  and  scanty, 
that  he  who  solely  possessed  them,  would  be  wretched. 

‘  ^Estuat  infelix’,  &c.  &c.  It  appears  to  me,  that 
your  very  words  might  admirably  serve  for  a  defini¬ 
tion  of  selfishness.  It  may  be  called,  ‘  a  misplaced 
love  of  external  things,  from  which  we  expect  to  de¬ 
rive  pleasure  or  advantage ;  an  inordinate  love  of 
matters  too  scanty’,  &c.  &c. 

The  objects  of  selfishness  admit  of  competition,  of 
jarring  interests,  of  exhaustion,  of  decay.  Those 
of  self-love,  to  use  your  own  ideas,  are  like  ‘  the  air 
or  sunshine’,  &c.  But  I  differ  from  you  so  far,  that  I 
conceive  it  most  desirable,  ‘  to  abate  the  force,  and 
contract  the  range  of  selfishness.’  Whilst  I  again 
agree  with  you,  ‘  that  the  supreme  and  intimate  good, 
satisfies,  not  selfishness,  but  self-love,  to  the  extent, 
and  without  a  possibility  of  jarring  interest ;  there 
being  infinitely  enough  for  all,  through  boundless 
eternity.’ 


528 


The  distinction,  between  self-love,  and  selfishness, 
which  I  have  here,  perhaps  crudely  and  unsatisfac¬ 
torily,  endeavoured  to  unfold,  I  certainly  had  in  view, 
when  I  wrote  my  sermon  ;  and  this  led  me  to  use  the 
words,  ‘refined  selfishness’,*  ‘fond  complacency  in 
favours5,  &c.  &c.  too  unguardedly,  I  grant,  but  still, 
on  my  principles,  not  jarringly  with  my  subsequent 
expressions  ;  ‘  nothing  less  will  satisfy  us,  than  a  par¬ 
ticipation,’  &c.  It  never  having  been  my  intention 
to  exclude  self-love  ;  and  self-love  necessarily  seeking 
its  own  satisfaction.  But,  is  not  this  mere  talk  about 
words  ?  I  humbly  conceive  not ;  inasmuch  as,  when 
there  is  a  right,  and  a  wrong,  it  is  of  essential  im¬ 
portance  to  have  a  definite  term  for  each.  I  clearly 
perceive,  that  I  was  too  abstract,  too  unqualified,  too 
little  illustrative.  Still,  I  think  I  had  some  advan¬ 
tage,  not  in  what  I  wrote,  but  in  what,  with  a  hint 
from  you,  I  might  have  written,  by  having  a  distinct, 
and  opposite  meaning,  for  the  terms  in  question. 
This,  I  am  in  great  hopes,  you  will  not  dissent  from. 
The  distinction,  once  well  laid  down,  may  save  many 
a  troublesome  periphrasis,  and  perplexing  obscurity 
of  words.  And  I  am  the  more  anxious  to  recom¬ 
mend  it,  because  I  soberly  believe,  that  selfishness  is 
the  very  antipode  of  self-love. 

Poor - !  I  entirely  disapprove,  I  truly  lament, 

but  I  do  not  greatly  wonder  at  his  wanderings.  It  is 
impossible,  almost,  to  conjecture  where  they  will  end. 
I  would  far  rather  burn  all  the  sermons  I  ever  wrote, 
than  that,  through  the  means  of  any  one  of  them,  I 
should,  in  any  measure,  sanction  or  promote,  even 
so  far  as  my  poor  influence  could  go,  errors  such  as 
pervaded  that  sermon,  which  you  did  not  mention 

*  On  my  principle,  though  all  selfishness  is  wrong ;  it  may  admit  the  distinc¬ 
tion  of  gross  and  refined,  as  we  talk  of  gross  and  refined  sensuality. 


529 


to  me  before.  God  has  been  gracious  and  merciful 
to  me,  by  placing  in  my  way  a  religion  of  common 
sense  ;  and  by  giving  me  a  friend  to  watch  over  every 
tendency  to  aberration,  from  that  good  and  plain 
path  ;  a  path  too,  abundantly  strewed  with  flowers, 
as  well  as  supplied  with  every  suitable  provision,  and 
necessary  accommodation. 

A  few  words,  as  to  the  omission  of  any  positive  in¬ 
stitution,  in  the  New  Testament,  of  special  times  for 
private  prayer.  Every  syllable  that  you  mention, 
about  David,  Daniel,  St.  Peter,  the  Apocalypse,  in¬ 
cense,  &c.  &c.,  and  Jewish  habits  of  private  devotion, 
was  completely  in  my  view,  when  I  wrote  the  sermon. 
(This  is  to  me  a  pleasant  coincidence,  and  will  not 
be  displeasing  to  you.)  Why,  then,  did  I  not  men¬ 
tion  them,  in  the  sermon  ?  Because  I  had  not  room 
within  its  limits ;  I  therefore  discarded  my  prepared 
thoughts,  and  some  written  notes  too ;  and  was  com¬ 
pelled  to  substitute  what  I  say,  about  stated  hours  of 
prayer  having  been  ‘  uniformly  resorted  to,  by  all 
pious  and  spiritual  members  of  the  jewish,  and  the 
Christian  church’;  of  which,  I  added,  ‘  scripture  ex¬ 
amples  were  numerous  and  striking’,  &c.  Now,  when 
I  wrote  these  words,  what  I  had  in  my  mind’s  eye, 
was  precisely  what  you  have  thrown  out  in  your 
letter. 

As  to  want  of  authoritative  appointment,  I  do  not 
think,  however,  that  your  reason  will  do  ;  inasmuch  as- 
it  only  throws  back  the  crux,  from  the  New  Testament 
to  the  Old.  Why  were  there  no  positive  appointments 
of  stated  times,  under  the  earlier  dispensation  ?  Why 
were  good  men  left  to  establish  precedents  ?  Clearly, 
I  conceive,  for  the  reasons  assigned  by  me.  Autho¬ 
ritative  appointments  would  have  chilled  the  spirit 
of  devotion ;  while  elective  imitation  of  good  men, 

VOL.  I.  M  M 


530 


whose  choice  of  hours,  again,  was  guided  by  an  asso¬ 
ciation  with  all  that  was  grand,  affecting,  and  lovely, 
in  the  public  service  of  God,  infused  a  charm  and 
a  gracefulness  into  the  private  devotions,  of  both 
jewish,  and  Christian  churches,  that  at  once  excites 
my  admiration,  and  wins  my  heart. 

My  chief  employment,  for  the  last  eight  days,  has 
been  a  little  poetical  excursus.  You  told  me,  more 
than  a  year  ago,  that  I  had  a  narrow  escape  of  being 
a  poet ;  and  little  did  I  then  imagine,  that  I  should 
ever  again  have  scribbled  verses.  But  so  it  happened, 
that  I  was  excited  unawares  ;  and,  as  my  constitution 
seems  to  require  recreation,  sometimes  for  days  to¬ 
gether,  I  did  not  choose  to  tie  on  a  bandage.  I  had 
been  reading  Cowper’ s  translation  of  the  Epitaphium 
Damonis  ;  and  it  appeared,  in  many  instances,  abso¬ 
lutely  erroneous,  and,  in  most,  miserably  defective;  in¬ 
somuch,  that  I  believe  Cowper  could  not  have  WTitten 
even  his  first  draught,  con  amore;  and  could  never 
afterwards  have  retouched  it,  with  his  masterly  hand. 
Almost  insensibly,  I  was  led  to  make  an  effort  myself ; 
and  yesterday  I  found  myself  advanced  more  than 
twenty  lines,  not  despicably  executed  ;  and,  unless  I 
am  a  gross  miscalculator,  in  some  respects  preferable, 
either  to  Langhorne,  or  Cowper.  When  finished,  I 
will  send  you  a  copy,  if  you  think  it  worth  your 
while  to  read  idle  verse.  Towards  the  evening  of 
yesterday,  I  was  beginning  to  ask,  4  Do  you  take 
sufficient  care,  my  good  sir,  not  to  let  your  poetic 
jade  run  away  with  you,  and  fling  you?’  Happily, 
your  letter  relieved  my  doubts ;  for  I  have  employed 
myself,  ever  since  the  receipt  of  it,  in  matters  remote 
from  the  muses,  and  employed  myself  right  pleasantly. 
The  fact  is,  I  have  come  recreated  to  my  business. 
This,  I  hope,  is  no  bad  test.  Was  I  wrong  in  ac- 


53 1 


counting  my  small  poetic  interlude,  a  sort  of  pro¬ 
vidential  remuneration,  for  having  given  up,  (I  am 
persuaded  on  just  grounds,)  my  trip  to  town  ?  1 

stated  to  you,  chiefly,  things  prudential.  Some  other, 
and  perhaps  higher  motives,  concurred  in  fixing  the 
relinquishment.  Pray,  have  you  ever  looked  into 
Benson  on  the  Epistles  ?  This  man  appears  to  me 
to  have  more  heart,  than  any  of  his  arian  brethren  ; 
and  sometimes  beautifully,  as  well  as  ingeniously,  il¬ 
lustrates,  both  the  manner,  and  the  spirit  of  St.  Paul. 
In  particular,  his  comment  on  the  Epistle  to  Philemon, 
is  one  of  the  neatest  specimens  of  sacred  criticism, 
and  most  cordial  testimonies  to  St.  Paul’s  great  qua¬ 
lities  both  of  head  and  heart,  that  I  ever  read.  I  wish 
you  would  borrow  the  book,  and  judge  for  yourself. 
I  think  you  will  be  much  gratified. 

It  occurred  to  me  last  night,  that  there  might  be 
a  most  useful  essay  written,  on  the  characters  and 
teaching  of  St.  Paul,  St.  Peter,  St.  John,  and  St.  James. 
It  should  proceed,  however,  from  a  person,  with  views 
such  as  ours ;  and  who  would  prepare  himself  fully 
with  matter,  both  from  the  New  Testament,  and  other 
sources.  The  natural  temperament  and  character  of 
each  should  be  first  deduced,  from  an  induction  of 
facts ;  and  from  such  imitations  whether  direct  or 
indirect,  as  occur  in  their  writings,  as  well  as  from 
the  general  complexion  of  their  style.  The  correc¬ 
tion,  modification,  and  new  direction,  should  be  next 
illustrated,  in  the  same  manner.  And,  lastly,  their 
mode  of  teaching,  should  be  considered  with  refer¬ 
ence,  not  only  to  their  own  peculiar  habits  of  think¬ 
ing  and  feeling,  but,  also,  to  the  special  occasions  on 
which  they  wrote,  and  the  specific  exigencies,  which 
required  a  specific  remedy. 

There  would  be,  in  such  a  work,  a  noble  op- 

m  m  c2 


532 


portunity  of  adverting  to  different  species  of  work¬ 
men,  or  witnesses ;  to  the  foundation  of  grace,  and 
the  superstructure  of  holiness.  And,  at  the  same  time, 
the  prevailing  tendency  of  insisting  on  some  peculiar 
mode,  might  be  directly,  but  powerfully  counteracted. 
At  present,  it  is  notoriously  evident,  that  one  party 
as  pertinaciously  requires  an  imitation  of  St.  James’s 
manner,  as  another  party  does  of  St.  Paul’s.  While 
few,  or  none,  advert  to  the  natural  distinctions  of 
character  in  the  two  Apostles,  and  to  the  emergencies 
which  gave  rise  to  their  several  epistolary  writings. 

Many  less  observable  particulars,  also,  might  be 
pointed  out.  For  instance,  the  suitableness  of  the 
means  used  for  St.  Paul’s  conversion ;  a  spirit  so 
vehement  and  daring,  could  not,  probably,  have  been 
subdued,  by  a  milder  process.  Again,  St.  Paul  and 
St.  Peter,  both,  betray  a  little  wrongness ;  which  is 
recorded,  probably  amongst  other  reasons,  to  incul¬ 
cate  the  salutary  lesson,  4  that  we  should  not  be  high- 
minded,  but  fear’ :  they  go  wrong  in  different  ways, 
conformable  to  their  different  characters  :  the  former 
being  hurried  into  a  momentary  ebullition  of  passion  ; 
and  the  latter  betrayed  into  a  timid  compromise  : 
just  as  we  might  have  expected,  in  the  one  case,  from 
him  who  had  been  a  violent  persecutor ;  and  in  the 
other,  from  him  who  denied  his  Divine  Master.  Is 
it  not  a  peculiar  instance  of  fitness,  that  St.  John,  who 
was  of  an  aspiring  temper,  and  wished  to  attain  the 
highest  dignity  in  the  Messiah’s  temporal  kingdom, 
should  be  the  advocate  of  Christian  perfection  ?  And, 
again,  that  St.  Peter,  who  had  himself  so  deeply  ex¬ 
perienced  the  mischief  of  pride,  and  the  efficacy  of 
humble  repentance,  should  be  the  person  to  exhort 
Christians  to  be  4  clothed  with  humility’,  because 
4  God  resisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  unto  the 


533 


humble?5  Is  it  not  a  striking  exemplification,  too, 
of  the  transforming  energy  of  divine  grace,  that  the 
apostle  chosen,  or,  at  least,  providentially  excited,  to 
inspire  his  brethren  with  fortitude  under  persecution, 
should  be  that  very  St.  Peter,  who,  through  fear  of 
persecution,  had  denied  Christ  ? 

These  thoughts  have  been  thrown  on  paper  rapidly, 
and  almost  at  random  ;  they  may  either  be  trite  and 
obvious,  or  fanciful  and  visionary,  for  aught  that  I 
can  tell.  With  some  slight  exception,  I  do  not 
recollect  having  met  with  them  elsewhere  ;  but  of 
this  I  am  well  assured,  that  your  mind  is  stored  with 
valuable  ideas,  which  would  far  better  illustrate  the 
subject ;  and  what  I  wish,  is,  that  you  would  un¬ 
dertake  an  essay,  or  essays,  such  as  I  have  been 
rudely  and  imperfectly  sketching  the  outline  of.  It 
would  be  a  most  seasonable  work  ;  and  I  soberly 
think,  that  in  few  ways  could  the  views  we  love  be 
put  forward,  with  better  prospect  of  attracting  the 
notice,  and  perhaps  conciliating  the  good  will  of  the 
religious  public.  In  pursuing  such  a  plan,  it  wTould 
be  easy  to  support  our  opinions,  in  a  popular  and 
uncontroversial  style,  from  the  example,  the  feelings, 
and  the  reasonings  of  the  apostles  :  whilst  the  bio¬ 
graphic  form,  would  give  an  interest,  and  intelli¬ 
gibility,  to  all  that  might  be  said,  which  could  not, 
perhaps,  be  so  readily  attained,  in  any  other  mode. 
If  you  would  engage  in  this  undertaking,  you  might 
reckon  upon  me  as  an  under  workman,  in  making 
any  researches,  or  in  any  branch  that  you  could 
employ  me.  But  should  you  decline  it,  I  myself 
would  willingly  endeavour  to  turn  my  thoughts  and 
studies  this  way  ;  provided  you  would  furnish  me 
with  hints  to  be  enlarged  upon  ;  and  lead  me  to 
such  sources  of  information,  as  I  am  not  acquainted 

M  M  3 


534 


with.  Some  sources,  not  very  commonly  explored, 
I  have  within  my  reach,  and  would  gladly  resort  to ; 
others,  I  have  already  applied  to,  not  without  satis¬ 
faction  ;  and  above  all,  by  communication  with  you, 
I  got  hold  of  a  clue,  which  I  have  hitherto  found  a 
satisfactory  guide  through  labyrinths,  in  which  multi¬ 
tudes  are  bewildered.  My  first  wish,  however,  would 
be,  that  you  should  write. 

If  you  think  the  plan  a  wild,  or  unpromising  one, 
do  not  hesitate  to  give  your  opinion  freely ;  it  is  a 
child  but  of  a  day’s  growth ;  and  has  not  yet  so 
entwined  itself  about  my  affections,  as  to  prevent  my 
resigning  it  with  perfect  composure.  Or  if,  think¬ 
ing  the  work  might  be  serviceable,  you  question  the 
expediency  of  my  engaging  in  it,  be  equally  candid. 
My  illnesses  have,  at  least,  this  good  effect  ;  that 
they  keep  me,  I  trust,  diffident  of  my  powers  ;  and 
ready  to  be  dissuaded  from  any  disproportionate  un¬ 
dertaking,  by  those  who  know  better  than  myselff 

....  quid  ferre  recusent, 

Quid  valeant  humeri. 

At  the  same  time,  I  honestly  own  a  feeling,  that 
some  continuous  work  in  prospect,  would  give  a 
stimulus,  and  zest,  and  unity  to  my  studies  ;  and 
would,  I  think,  aid  me  in  the  composition  of  sermons, 
by  suggesting  trains  of  thought,  which  might  be 
worked  up  into  discourses.  If  I  had  matter,  (and 
that  is,  perhaps,  not  out  of  my  reach,)  and  if  my 
health  should  be  spared,  I  see  no  reason,  why  1  might 
not  hope  to  clothe  my  ideas  in  language,  at  least 
equal  to  that  of  my  visitation  sermon. 

When  your  eyes  permit,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to 
hear  from  you  ;  but  do  not  think  of  writing,  till  you 


535 


can  do  it  with  safety  ;  I  hope  I  have  not  now  tired  or 
injured  you,  and  am,  dear  Sir, 

Your  most  obliged 

and  affectionate  Friend, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  LXXXIL 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq « 

March,  1809. 

*  ft  #  #  *■  #  # 

I  must  now  return,  for  a  moment,  to  the  subject  of 
selfishness.  Dr.  Johnson  defines  it,  c  attention  to 
one’s  own  interest,  without  any  regard  to  others ;  self- 
love.’  To  the  last  word  of  this  definition,  of  course, 
I  greatly  object.  But  this  is  not  the  only  fault  I 
have  to  find.  For  whilst  I  hold,  that  attention  to 
ourselves,  to  the  exclusion  of  others,  enters  deeply 
into  the  essence  of  selfishness,  I  am  far  from  think¬ 
ing  that  all  such  attention,  even  though  amounting 
to  the  utmost  pitch  of  exclusiveness,  should  be  stig¬ 
matized  as  selfishness.  For  instance,  if  I  am  placed 
within  reach  of  a  plank,  on  a  stormy  sea,  along  with 
a  fellow-sufferer,  who  has  been  washed  overboard  ; 
and,  if  that  plank  can  receive  but  one  person ; 
surely,  here,  to  preserve  myself,  is  but  a  fair  exercise 
of  self-love.  I  should  rather  describe  selfishness,  as 
£  an  undue  and  excessive  pursuit  of  earthly,  and  un¬ 
spiritual  objects,  in  which  we  hope  to  find  advantage 
or  enjoyment  ;  and  in  pursuit  of  which,  we  are  re- 

m  m  4 


536 


gardless  of  others.’  This  is  my  unblocked  thought: 
it  might,  doubtless,  receive  a  far  better  shape  ;  but, 
when  finished  off,  it  might  possibly  answer  the  pur¬ 
pose. 

The  reason  why  I  wish  to  have  selfishness  always 
considered  as  a  wrong  passion,  is  this  ;  that  numbers 
of  good  people,  have  stigmatized  it,  and  do  what  we 
may,  will  stigmatize  it,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter. 
But  they  rarely  do  it  on  right  grounds ;  rarely 
without  involving  poor  self-love  in  the  censure  and 
disgrace.  Now,  I  can  conceive  no  such  effectual 
mode,  of  cutting  up  their  error  by  the  roots,  as  at 
once  admitting  selfishness  to  be  wrong ;  then,  fully 
defining,  illustrating,  and  describing,  what  it  really 
is;  and  then,  claiming  those  fair,  and  just  honours 
for  self-love,  of  which  it  has  been  long  most  iniquit- 
ously  deprived.  This  seems  to  me  to  accord  with 
truth.  And  as  to  expediency,  can  it  be  doubted, 
that  to  use  the  same  term,  sometimes  in  a  good, 
sometimes  in  a  bad  sense,  must  inevitably  leave  occa¬ 
sion  for  eternal  misconceptions,  misrepresentations, 
nebulosities,  and  logomachies?  Or,  on  the  other 
hand,  can  it  be  questioned,  that  a  steady  use  of  definite 
terms,  adequately  exfoliated  and  expanded,  must,  in 
due  time,  produce,  at  least  a  great  approximation  and 
unity  of  sentiment? 

Now,  as  to  the  point  from  whence  all  this  discus¬ 
sion  started  ;  I  am  disposed  to  think,  that  the  pure 
love  of  God  may  be  very  satisfactorily,  and  perhaps 
most  satisfactorily  explained,  without  directly  advert¬ 
ing  to  selfishness  at  all.  The  more  we  simplify,  the 
less  we  implicate  with  foreign  matter,  the  more 
thoroughly  shall  we  be  understood.  When  fair,  and 
needful  occasions  arise,  I  would  talk  in  my  own  way, 
of  self-love,  and  selfishness ;  but  I  believe  occasions 


537 

should  not  be  created  ;  and  far  less  should  we  go  an 
inch  out  of  our  way,  to  create  them. 

And  now  I  may  venture  to  tell  you,  that  even  my 
poetical  interlude,  has  had  another  little  interlude 
enclosed  within  it.  On  Sunday  night  as  I  lay  in  bed, 
half  awake,  and  half  dreaming,  a  thought  arose,  that 
it  would  be  right  to  show  some  little  mark,  at  once  of 

my  respect  and  feeling,  on  the  occasion  of  Miss - ’s 

marriage.  And  what  should  this  mark  be  ?  A  copy 
of  Cowper’s  poems,  with  a  little  inscription  on  a 
blank  leaf.  To  work  my  mind  immediately  went, 
even  in  its  morphean  state  ;  and  I  produced  a  stanza  ; 
and  the  next  morning  I  completed  my  inscription  \ 
and  then  I  wrote  to  Archer,  for  a  copy  of  Cowper  ; 
and  last  night  I  received  the  said  copy  ;  and  just  now 
I  have  finished  my  transcription  j  and  you  may  read 
my  lines  on  the  next  page. 


VERSES 

WRITTEN  ON  A  BLANK  LEAF  OF  COWPER’s  POEMS, 
PRESENTED,  ON  HER  MARRIAGE, 

TO  MARY,  VISCOUNTESS  BERNARD. 


Lady,  were  Cowper’s  spirit  here, 

That  sainted  spirit  sure  would  breathe, 

A  fervent  wish,  a  vow  sincere, 

And  twine  them  with  thy  bridal  wreath. 

He  would  not  of  thy  goodness  tell, 

For  purest  virtue  courts  the  shade ; 

He  would  not  on  thy  features  dwell, 

For  beauty’s  short-lived  flower  must  fade. 


538 


No,  lady;  cease  thy  modest  fears, 

More  pleased  his  artless  muse  would  feel, 
To  consecrate  the  filial  tears, 

Which  from  thy  trembling  eyelids  steal : 

To  cherish,  on  this  joyful  day, 

The  glistening  tribute  of  thy  heart, 

For  years,  of  mild  paternal  sway, 

For  cares,  that  made  thee,  what  thou  art  ! 

Then  would  he  pray,  that  white-robed  truth, 
And  purest  peace,  and  joy  serene, 

(Blest  guardians  of  thy  vernal  youth,) 

Might  shield  thee  thro’  life’s  various  scene. 

But  Cowper  lives  in  realms  of  light 
Where  kindred  seraphs  ceaseless  sing 
Far  other  hands  this  wreath  unite, 

Far  other  hands  this  offering  bring  ! 

Yet,  lady,  wilt  thou  kindly  deign 

(’T  is  all  the  unpractised  muse  can  give,) 
Accept  this  rudely  warbled  strain, 

And  let  it,  bound  with  Cowper’s,  live  ? 

These  volumes  too,  I  fondly  ween, 

May  for  their  author’s  sake,  be  prized, 
When  thine  own  hearth  shall  match  the  scene, 
By  Weston’s  bard  immortalized. 

For  sure,  thou  lov’st  domestic  joys, 

And  hours  of  intimate  delight, 

And  days  retired  from  vulgar  noise. 

And  converse  bland  that  cheats  the  night. 

Suuc  joys  be  thine,  be  his  !  and  still, 

In  heart  united,  as  in  hands, 

Blessing  and  blest,  may  each  fulfil, 

The  glorious  task  your  place  demands. 

Lights  of  the  world,  may  each  dispense 
New  lustre  through  your  ample  sphere, 

And,  very  late,  be  summon’d  hence, 

To  shine  thro’  heaven’s  eternal  year. 


539 


P.  S.  Perhaps  it  may  be  fair  to  say,  that,  whatever 
is  for  the  real  good  of  a  person,  is  to  him  the  legiti¬ 
mate  object  of  self-love  :  whatever  is  not  really  good 
for  him,  the  object  of  selfishness. 


LETTER  71. 

To  the  Rev .  J .  Jebb. 

My  dear  Friend. 

I  cannot  say  more  than  a  word  or  two ;  but  I  know 
you  will  wish  for  a  prompt  acknowledgment  of  your 
last  communication. 

I  believe  I  may  say,  unreservedly,  that  I  subscribe 
to  every  word  you  have  said  ;  your  philological  re¬ 
marks  are  conclusive.  In  short,  as  usual,  we  are  in 
unison.  But  I  must,  at  the  same  time,  fairly  confess 
my  ignorance,  and  acknowledge,  that  the  indubitable 
force  of  ish,  if  it  had  ever  been  before  me,  was  not 
present  to  my  mind.  *  Terminatio  ish ,  adjectivis 
praecipue  addita  (et  non  raro  substantivis)  diminu - 
tionem  innuit.’ .  .  Wallis. 

How  capital  a  grammarian,  and  how  indifferent  a 
divine  ! 

I  assure  you,  while  I  was  writing  about  times  of 
prayer,  I  was  questioning  whether  I  might  not  be 
uselessly  employed ;  on  the  ground  of  your  certainly 
knowing,  all  I  could  say  on  the  subject. 

But  let  me  call  your  attention  to  one  thing  ;  I  was 
not  supporting  the  legitimacy  of  the  term,  selfishness. 
At  least,  I  meant  no  such  thing ;  I  was  certainly  not 


540 


aware  of  the  clearly  depreciating  meaning,  which  the 
justest  etymology  stamps  upon  it.  But  neither  did 
I  desire,  that  it  should  be  honourably  mentioned.  I 
observed,  that  I  was  not  describing  feelings,  but 
analyzing  them ;  and  in  pure  ignorance,  I  used  the 
term  selfishness,  not  from  regard  to  the  term,  but 
merely  because  it  was  explicit.  Still,  I  think,  true 
and  strict  as  the  etymology  is,  what  you  say  in  your 
concluding  paragraph  on  the  subject,  is  not  more 
just,  than  important;  that  the  ‘pure  love  of  God, 
may  be  very  satisfactorily,  and  perhaps,  most  satis¬ 
factorily  explained,  without  directly  adverting  to 
selfishness  at  all  ;  and,  that  the  more  we  simplify, 
the  less  we  implicate  with  foreign  matter,  the  more 
thoroughly  shall  we  be  understood.’ 

You  will  just  advert  to  my  sentiment,  that  to  be 
reflectively  selfish,  is  to  be  incapable  of  love.  This, 
I  conceive,  is  as  accordant  with  all  you  say,  as  it  can 
be  ;  for,  on  your  very  clear  principles,  self-love  is 
the  just  and  fair  sensation  ;  but  selfishness  is  that 
reflective  movement,  with  which  no  extrinsic  love 
is  compatible  ;  and  indeed,  by  consequence,  no  com¬ 
fort,  no  pleasure. 

If  any  end  was  necessary  to  be  answered  by  my 
remarks,  it  is  answered  most  completely. 

Your  Epithalamium  is  very  beautiful ;  so  thinks 

Dr.  M - also,  to  whom  I  read  it.  I  should  be 

more  surprized  at  the  poetic  vein  beginning  to  flow 
fresh,  after  so  long  a  stagnation,  were  I  not  accus¬ 
tomed  to  wonderful  things.  It  has  just  struck 
seven*,  and  therefore  I  cannot  explain  :  but  you  will 
make  no  bad  conjecture  at  my  meaning. 

Hannah  More’s  new  book,  Coelebs,  an  odd  sort  of 


*  The  post  -hour.  ,  .  Ed- 


541 


redivived  religious  courtship,  is  not  exactly  what  it 
ought  to  be.  I  have  it  from  the  author ;  and  am  t 
puzzled  how  to  speak  about  it.  It  is  as  low  as  it 
well  can  be.  The  thing  you  might  suppose  from  the 
high  praise  of - . 

Ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  72. 
To  the  Rev .  J.  Jehh. 


Dawson  St.,  March  17*.  1809. 

My  dear  Frtend, 

X  long  to  hear  some  remarks  from  you,  on  the 
introduction  to  the  Cath.  Apol.,  which  I  sent  by 
J.  F. 

Easter  being  now  at  hand,  it  is  natural  to  think 
about  it  Will  you,  therefore,  turn  to  the  7th  verse 
of  the  5th  chapter  of  1st  Corinthians,  in  your  greek 
Testament;  and  judge,  whether  there  is  not  as  ex¬ 
press  a  recognition  of  the  Christian  Pasch,  there,  as 
could  be  conveyed  in  language.  Judge,  also,  whether 
our  translation  does  any  justice  to,  or  even  makes 
sound  sense  of  the  passage.  There  are  various  rea¬ 
sons,  from  internal  evidence,  to  conclude,  that  the 
Apostle  wrote  in,  or  about,  the  paschal  season.  He 
takes  occasion,  therefore,  from  the  exactness  of  the 
Jews  in  ceremonial  matters,  to  urge  upon  the  Co¬ 
rinthians  a  like  attention  to  moral  expurgation. 
And,  as  an  apposite  motive,  he  says,  Kai  yap  to 


*  Mr.  Knox’s  birth-day.  .  .  Ed. 


542 


7r dcyoL  rj[Aci)v  in rsp  r^puov  sMtj  XpiFTog,  toVrs  sopra^copisv, 
&c.  What  is  this,  but  4  For  our  Passover,  also, 
was  sacrificed  for  us,  even  Christ;  therefore  let  us 
keep  the  feast?’  That  is,  let  us  be  as  spiritually 
diligent,  as  they  are,  ceremonially :  for  we  have  our 
Passover,  as  really  as  they.  As  to  the  construction, 
compare  St.  John  iv.  45.,  last  words  of  the  verse. 

I  must  say  no  more,  but  that  I  am  ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  73. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb. 

Bellevtie,  April  24.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  sent  you  meo  jpericulo ,  by  J.  F.,  the  four  pub¬ 
lished  volumes  of  Edwards’s  works.  You  say  no¬ 
thing  of  them,  but  I  cannot  doubt  your  liking  to 
have  them ;  and,  if  you  were  of  somewhat  another 
mind,  I  could  soon  reason  you  out  of  it:  Jonathan 
Edwards  being  really  one  of  the  grandest  of  our 
allies.  He  doubtless  pushes  his  voyages  of  disco¬ 
very,  up  into  the  antarctic  ice  of  metaphysic ;  but 
his  own  heart  had  a  warmth,  that  no  intellectual 
climate  could  chill ;  and  therefore,  he  not  only 
lives,  but  glows,  where  any  weaker  moral  vitality 
would  have  been  frost-bitten. 

What  for  the  present  I  wish  to  point  your  atten¬ 
tion  to,  are  those  parts,  which  seem  eminently  fitted 
to  meet  existing  errors.  For  instance,  vol.  iii.  29 6, 
7,  8.  497-  .  .  502.  541,  2,  3,  4,  5.  549,  50,  1,  2.  I 
also  think  the  following  4  Reflection  (iv.)  ’  is  worth 


543 


reading ;  as  giving  Jonathan  Edwards’s  ideas  of  Cal¬ 
vinism.  Had  he  been  better  read  in  ecclesiastical 
antiquity,  he  would  have  adopted  another  appella¬ 
tion  ;  his  plan  being  really,  not  Calvinism,  but  augus- 
tinism;  and  his  leading  principle,  (p.  550.)  ‘that 
the  grace,  or  virtue,  of  truly  good  men,  not  only  dif¬ 
fers  from  the  virtue  of  others,  in  degree,  but  even  in 
nature  and  kind’ ;  being,  not  even  augustinism,  but 
the  sentiment  of  Basil  and  Macarius,  and,  I  am  sure 
I  might  say,  of  all  the  catholic  fathers,  as  really,  as 
of  Augustin.  Probably  he  would  have  refused  to 
admit,  what  I  conceive  those  referred  to,  hold ; 
that  the  lower  goodness  predisposed,  or  might  at 
least  predispose,  for  the  higher.  But,  as  for  the 
thing  itself,  it  seems  to  be  no  more  than  St.  Paul’s 
distinction,  of  the  righteousness  of  the  law,  and  the 
righteousness  of  faith. 

But,  in  the  parts  of  the  volume  I  am  bidding 
you  turn  over,  will  you  not  find  something  also, 
tending  to  show,  that  the  sublimest  truths,  need  to 
be  cautiously,  .  .  circumferentially  guarded  ?  Look, 
for  instance,  at  what  Brainard  says,  in  the  501st 
page,  and  at  what  Edwards  himself  says,  in  the  1st 
paragraph  of  the  3d  section  of  the  Reflections, 
(p.  539.)  and  judge,  whether  there  is  not  a  verging 
towards  mysticism  ?  Brainard  slightly ;  but  Ed¬ 
wards,  I  conceive,  more  decidedly.  In  fact,  Brainard 
learned  it  from  Edwards  ;  being,  at  the  same  time, 
peculiarly  predisposed  to  it,  both  by  the  virtues,  and 
the  defects  of  his  mind. 

You  will  observe,  I  am  not  censuring  these  sen¬ 
timents,  in  the  connection  in  which  I  now  find 
them  :  because  I  think  it  morally  impossible,  that 
thorough-bred  calvinists,  could  have  become  the  ade¬ 
quate  correctors  of  their  native  errors,  without  pass- 


544 


ing  into  this  species  of  extreme.  But  still,  especially 
as  Edwards  expresses  it,  an  extreme  I  must  hold  it 
to  be ;  and  an  extreme  terminating  (as  shown  in  the 
parallelism  between  Law  and  Walker)  in  an  error  of 
the  very  sort,  which  Edwards  is  anxious  to  extirpate. 

<  His  joy’,  says  he,  p.  539.  ‘  was  joy  in  God,  and  not 
in  himself ;  not  so  much  the  consideration  of  the  sure 
grounds  he  had,  to  think  that  his  state  was  good,  but 
the  sweet  meditations,  and  entertaining  views,  he  had 
of  divine  things,  without  himself.’  Now,  in  Brainard 
and  Edwards  (and  in  Richard  Baxter,  who,  in  his  ac¬ 
count  of  his  own  later  feelings,  talks  in  the  same  way) 
this  might  be,  and  was,  perfectly  safe.  But  let  the 
truth  of  this  principle  be  generally  admitted,  and 
what  room  may  it  leave  for  minds  of  an  equally  sub¬ 
tile,  but  less  delicately  moral  cast,  to  let  the  ground 
of  their  hearts  run  wild,  while  they  themselves  were 
occupied  in  transcendental  contemplations?  I  humbly 
hope,  both  you  and  I  possess  an  advantage  above 
Edwards,  Brainard,  Leighton,  and  many  others ; 
namely,  that  we  have  no  original  incongruities. 
This  is  the  point.  He  that  has  been  the  captive  of 
any  one  error,  during  the  former  part  of  life,  can 
hardly  avoid  making  alliance  with  some  opposite 
error,  when  the  dangers,  attendant  on  his  first  un¬ 
mixed  theory,  present  themselves  to  his  view.  Yet 
this,  no  doubt,  has  its  use,  beyond  the  individual ; 
it  appears  to  be  necessary  for  the  more  extended  ex¬ 
pelling  of  the  error.  The  fact  of  Brainard  and 
Edwards  running,  from  the  abuses  of  their  own 
system,  into  almost  an  opposite  abuse,  being  evi¬ 
dently  more  impressive,  than  all  our  temperament  of 
truth.  1  believe  I  have  a  peculiar  jealousy  of  every 
thing,  that  can,  in  any  respect,  imply  sickliness  of 
mind.  I  feel  so  deeply,  that  revealed  religion  is 


545 


adapted  to  the  full  organ  of  our  inner  man,  that  I 
dread  the  idea  of  a  single  stop  being  out  of  order. 
And  I  believe,  that,  if  there  be  a  mind  on  this  earth, 
which  rivals  mine  in  this  feeling,  it  is  your  own  ; 
for  which  reason,  when  any  occasion  suggests  such 
thoughts,  as  I  have  been  now  expressing,  they  na¬ 
turally,  and  almost  necessarily,  take  vent  to  you. 

Did  I  desire  you  to  read  Chrysostom’s  exposition 
of  the  9th  verse  of  the  10th  chap,  of  St.  John  ? 
What  he  says  on  going  in  and  out,  is  very  remark¬ 
able. 

You  know  from - ,  that  I  got  your  little  poem 

printed.  Shall  I  send  you  some  copies  ?  I  do  not 
think  it  would  have  been  quite  the  thing  for  yourself 
to  have  done  ;  but  when  a  friend  did  it  ex  mero 
motu,  you  might  give  a  copy  to  one  that  might  wish 
to  have  it,  and  state  the  simple  fact. 

Mrs.  Forster  (James  F.’s  mother,)  got  a  copy  from 

me  to  send  to - .  The  reply  was,  *  I  thank  you 

1000  times  for  the  pretty  lines  on - .  I  am  sure 

she  is  a  sweet  creature  ;  and  I  trust  the  good  advice 
and  wishes,  contained  in  the  few  last  lines,  will  be 
granted,’ 

#  *  *  #  #  #  # 

Ever  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


vol.  i. 


N  N 


546 


LETTER  7L 
To  the  Rev .  J .  Jebb. 


May  29.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  was  gratified  at  your  so  fully  agreeing  with  me, 
respecting  those  passages  in  Edwards.  But  the  most 
important  work  of  that  extraordinary  man,  has  not 
yet  come  forward  in  this  edition.  I  mean,  his  His¬ 
tory  of  Redemption.  I  consider  that  work  to  be 
one  of  the  most  valuable,  that  have  come  from  an 
uninspired  human  pen.  Though  I  really  think,  that, 
in  such  works,  there  is  a  secondary  inspiration  :  such 
as  the  later  Jews  used  to  call,  Bath  col .  ‘The 
daughter  of  a  voice’,  I  think,  they  translate  it. 

Two  reformations  were  necessary  :  one  in  the 
individual  view,  in  opposition  to  unphilosophical 
dogmatism  ;  the  other,  in  the  collective  view,  in  op¬ 
position  to  sectarianism.  The  book  on  the  affections, 
wonderfully  provides  for  the  one  ;  that  on  redemp¬ 
tion,  as  wonderfully  makes  way,  and  furnishes  means, 
for  the  other.  I  own  it  amazes  me,  to  find  a  cal- 
vinistic  champion,  famous  in  the  congregation,  and 
one  of  renown,  so  affording  materials  for  demolishing 
the  system,  of  which  he  himself  seemed  to  make  a 
part,  and  by  the  individuals  of  which,  he  is  virtually 
canonized. 

A  propos  to  canonized.  This  day  I  was  at  a  book- 
auction  of  a  deceased  priest ;  and  there  was  such  a 
phalanx  of  sacrifical  bidders,  as,  in  one  or  two  in¬ 
stances,  to  distance  poor  me.  For  instance,  I  wished 


to  have  4  Nicole  sur  l’Unit6  de  l’Eglise’,  a  duode¬ 
cimo  volume  ;  and  it  went  off  against  me,  at  ten 
shillings.  In  truth,  there  was  a  great  zeal  amongst 
them,  to  catch  what  they  liked.  But,  when  a  large 
paper  Elzevir  Colloquia  Erasmi,  came  forward,  I  got 
it  at  a  third  of  its  value ;  not  one  of  them  having  a 
word  to  say  on  that  subject.  This  was  very  know¬ 
ing,  and  very  proper,  provided  they  were  not  afraid 
of  one  another  ;  but  the  silence,  in  the  midst  of  such 
eagerness,  was  amusing. 

Mercier  remarked  to  me  on  their  zeal  to  purchase  ; 
and  so  did  Jones  ;  therefore,  it  is  no  fancy  of  mine. 
But  it  is  a  great  confirmation  of  my  fancies  ;  for,  if 
they  will  read,  they  will  think  ;  and  if  they  think,  in 
this  reformed  land,  light  will  come  in  upon  them,  in 
spite  of  themselves.  I  grow  in  all  my  notions,  .  . 

Parva  metu  primo,  vires  acquirit  eundo,* 

Who  can  doubt,  that  a  reading  and  thinking  R.  C. 
clergy,  will,  at  length,  come  to  4  the  unity’!;  of 
which,  I  humbly  conceive,  we  are  the  first  fruits. 

It  is  wonderful  what  provision  is  made  for  disabus¬ 
ing  them,  as  soon  as  they  shall  be  capable  of  think¬ 
ing.  I  was  led  to  examine  St.  Cyprian,  a  few  days 
ago,  on  the  points  between  us,  and  the  Church  of 
Rome  :  and  what  I  found  there,  exceeds  my  expect¬ 
ation.  I  have  always  thought,  there  were  just  two 
points  of  real  difficulty  :  the  supremacy  of  the  pope, 
and  transubstantiation.  On  both,  St.  Cyprian  gives 
deep  satisfaction.  Respecting  the  first,  read  Epist. 
Ixviii.,  in  Fell’s  edition.  Mark,  particularly,  the  2d 
paragraph,  4  Iccirco  enim,  &c.’ ;  and  observe,  also, 
that  remarkable  expression,  in  the  last  paragraph, 

*  With  tim’rous  steps  essay  my  infant  pace, 

Gain  strength  by  going,  and  speed  on  the  race, 
t  Ephes.  iv.  13.  .  .  Ed. 


N  N  2 


548 


*  Etsi  pastores  multi,  unum  tamen  gregem  pascimus* * * §, 
kc.’  ;  and  above  all,  lower  down,  speaking  of  the 
heretical  Gallic  Bishop  Marcianus,  ‘  Nec  sic  agat, 
quasi  ipse  judicaverit  de  collegio  sacerdotum,  quando 
ipse  sit  ab  universis  sacerdotibus  judicatus.’f  I  can¬ 
not  but  deem  this  last,  a  brain-blow  ;  if  a  second  is 
necessary,  we  have  it  in  the  end  of  the  lxxii.  letter 
(to  Brother  Stephen,  also).  4  Qua  in  re,  nec  nos  vim 
iniquam  facimus,  aut  legem  damus,  cum  habeat  in 
ecclesise  administratione  voluntatis  suae  arbitrium 
liberum  unusquisque  praepositus,  rationem  actus  sui 
domino  redditurus.’t 

As  to  the  other  point,  I  only  say,  read  carefully 
the  lxiii.  Epist.  to  Cecilia ;  and  weigh,  especially,  the 
4th  and  5th  paragraphs. 

If  things  be  practicable,  I  shall  like  the  English 
expedition  much§,  and,  in  the  mean  time,  am 

Ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


*  Although  we  be  many  shepherds,  we  feed  but  the  one  flock, 

f  Neither  let  him  so  bear  himself,  as  if  he  were  entitled  to  pass  judgment  on 
the  college  of  priests,  when  he  himself  stands  judged  by  the  priesthood. 

|  In  which  thing,  we  neither  employ  unjust  compulsion,  nor  give  the  law, 
since  every  bishop  is  at  liberty  to  use  his  free  will  in  the  administration  of  the 
church,  being  about  hereafter  to  render  account  of  his  administration  to  the  Lord. 

§  A  long-contemplated  joint  visit  to  England,  (see  Letter  LXXXV.)  which 
took  place  this  year.  .  .  Ed. 


5M) 


LETTER  LXXXIIL 
To  A.  Knoi\  Esq. 

Cashel,  May  31.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

1  wo  or  three  lines,  to  thank  you  for  your  letter, 
and  for  thinking  about  me,  at  the  book  auction.  I 
should  be  glad  to  have  any  decent  copy  of'  St.  Basil 
secured.  To  get  the  best  editions  of  the  fathers,  is, 
I  fear,  hopeless.*  Are  there  any  other  books  that  I 
should  have,  in  the  collection  of  the  deceased  priest? 
If  so,  I  would  thank  you  to  tell  Jones  to  secure 
them  for  me.  I  see,  from  the  papers,  that  Mrs.  Col¬ 
bert  is  to  publish,  to-morrow,  a  priced  catalogue. 
Could  you  get  it,  and  send  it  me  by  post;  and 
indeed,  if,  on  looking  it  over,  there  appears  any 
thing  in  my  way,  would  you  have  the  goodness  to 
order  it  ? 

I  shall  go  to  the  Library,  for  the  purpose  of  read¬ 
ing  the  passages  of  St.  Cyprian  that  you  quote. 
Meanwhile,  I  cordially  agree,  that  Cyprian,  and  men 
like  Cyprian,  have  been  canonized  to  good  purpose ; 
for  I  have  not  the  shadow  of  doubt,  that  they  will 
yet,  by  their  writings,  serve  to  catholicize  the  ro- 
manists,  when  they  come  to  think  ;  after  having  had 
sufficient  training  in  the  way  of  study.  Unquestion¬ 
ably  this  is,  with  them,  the  age  of  reading.  It  is 

*  A  few  years  after,  the  Bishop,  when  rector  of  Abington,  made  nearly  a 
complete  collection  of  the  Benedictine  editions,  which  he  lived  to  perfect.  .  .  Ed. 

N  N  3 


550 


astonishing,  how  much  they  publish,  and  re-publish. 
The  day  before  yesterday,  I  bought,  in  Clonmel, 
4  Hawarden’s  Church  of  Christ’;  first  printed  in 
London,  1714.  Now  reprinted,  Dubl.  by  Coyne, 
3  vols.  8vo.,  with  158  ecclesiastical,  and  128  lay 
subscribers,  nine  of  whom  have  subscribed,  for  210 
copies ;  so  that  here  are  486  copies  of  this  work,  dis¬ 
posed  of  by  subscription,  besides  all  that  may  be  sold 
to  non- subscribers.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  pleased 
to  see  works  printed  and  read  in  Ireland,  though 
against  protestantism  ;  or  even  what  I  love  far  better 
than  protestantism,  the  catholic  Church  of  England. 

Hawarden  is  well  read  in  the  protestant  divines  ; 
and  in  his  third  volume,  is  a  treatise  against  Dr. 
Clarke  and  the  arians.  Probably  you  have  the  work 
already  ;  if  not,  I  conceive  you  should  send  for  it 
forthwith. 

I  have  this  morning  been  reading  the  preface  to 
the  tract  on  the  Invocation  of  Saints,  in  the  second 
volume  ;  and  was  much  struck  by  what  is  said  §  viii. 
Does  not  this  give  a  glimpse  of  the  manner,  in  which 
they  will  ultimately  come  to  the  unity  ?  In  the  tract 
itself,  p.  311,  §  v.  4  Jure  matris  impera  filio’,  was  as 
hyperbolical,  as  that  the  blessed  Virgin  is  4  the  mo¬ 
ther  of  the  whole  Trinity.’  And  if  such  expressions 
as  these,  had  ever  been  approved  by  the  whole 
church,  and  used  dogmatically  (neither  of  which  is 
true,)  the  reformation  would  have  been  commendable . 
§  vi.  4  But  we  say  ten  Ave  Marias  for  one  Pater¬ 
noster.  Is  this  required  by  the  terms  of  our  com¬ 
munion  ?  If  not,  you  may  say  ten,  or  if  you  please, 
ten  thousand  Paternosters,  either  for  one  Ave  Maria, 
or  for  none  at  all.  And,  if  ever  the  controversies, 
between  the  two  churches,  be  reduced  to  this,  all 
good  men  will  easily  join,  in  a  common  petition  to 


55 1 


their  pastors,  that  there  may  be  no  hyperboles,  in 
any  church  office.’ 

I  soberly  think  a  trip  to  England,  or  at  least  an 
excursion  somewhere,  greatly  expedient  for  me.  My 
mind  is  sodden,  by  a  full  twelve  month’s  absence  of 
any  thing,  that  can  be  fairly  called  society ;  save 

and  except  a  few  days  with - .  But  things  may 

not  be  practicable  ;  therefore  I  shall,  I  trust,  make 
up  my  mind,  if  not  cheerfully,  at  least  with  full  ac¬ 
quiescence,  to  disappointment  ;  and  rest  assured,  that 
even  present  inconvenience  will  work  for  my  per¬ 
manent  advantage.  This  has  been  the  case  hitherto  ; 
and  I  humbly  hope,  will  be  so  to  the  end. 

Yours  ever, 

J.  J. 


LETTER  75 . 

To  the  Rev .  J .  Jebh . 

Dublin,  June  3.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

My  present  letter  must  be  brief  indeed,  as  I  am  on 

the  wing  returning  to  B - with  my  friends,  who 

go  in  an  hour. 

As  to  England,  if  you  clearly  make  up  your  own 
mind  to  it,  I  am  at  your  service.  It  is  quite  in  my 
power ;  and,  though  I  have  no  wish,  abstractedly,  to 
move,  (though  I  dare  say,  I,  too,  am  not  out  of  the 
need  of  it,)  yet  I  could  not  really  form  to  myself  an 
idea  of  doing  any  thing  more  pleasant,  than  taking 
such  a  jaunt  with  you. 


N  N  4 


I  have  a  very  decent  Basil  for  you  ;  and  I  shall 
beg  your  acceptance  of  my  Fleury ;  having  got  a 
complete  set  at  this  late  auction.  I  think  you  will 
easily  get  the  supplementary  volumes,  from  the  same 
Frenchman ;  Dulau,  I  think,  his  name  is. 

I  send  you  a  curious  pamphlet,  which  I  got  a  day 
or  two  ago  from  London. 

But  I  have  to  add,  what  I  had  almost  forgot,  that 
I  am  struck,  within  this  day  or  two,  with  a  motive 
for  not  going  to  Cashel,  as  soon  as  I  had  intended. 
It  is  this  ;  the  methodist  conference  takes  place,  the 
first  week  in  July.  Ought  I  to  be  out  of  town,  at 
that  time  ?  I  soberly  think,  I  am  gaining  deeply  on 
some  leading  methodist  preachers.  One,  here  in 
Dublin,  is  a  perfect  admirer  of  our  viewTs  ;  so,  I  may 
say,  is  another  ;  if  this  could  be  made  to  grow,  what 
might  not  follow  !  I  own  this  impresses  me  ;  and 
makes  me  fear  I  should  leave  a  providential  oppor¬ 
tunity  behind  me  ;  if  I  should  go,  till  that  is  over. 
At  all  events,  let  me  have  your  thoughts.  Thanks 
for  all  communications.  I  could  talk  of  myself,  but 
must  say  only,  that  I  am,  ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  LXXXIV. 

To  A.  Knoi\  Esq . 

Cashel,  June  5.  1809- 

My  dear  Friend, 

X  am  deeply  gratified,  at  the  prospect  of  our  taking 
together,  our  long-projected  jaunt  to  England  ;  which, 
you  may  recollect,  was  in  agitation  precisely  ten  years 


553 


ago.  After  close  calculation,  I  believe  I  may  venture 
on  it,  without  any  thing  that  properly  deserves  the 
name  of  imprudence  ;  and,  where  health,  and  espe¬ 
cially  the  mens  sana,  is  at  all  in  question,  I  conceive 
that  a  little  additional  expense  is  not  to  be  started 
from.  This  morning,  therefore,  I  have  ‘  clearly  made 
up  my  own  mind’  ;  and  having  done  so,  I  stated  my 
purpose  to  the  Archbishop,  and  asked  his  permission, 
and  received  his  most  ready  consent.  Along  with 
this  affair,  I  coupled  your  notice  for  delay  ;  which  I 
think  you  will  not  disapprove  of.  The  fact  is,  the 
Archbishop  had  mentioned,  two  or  three  days  ago,  his 
having  some  thoughts  of  giving  Ballispellan  water  a 
trial ;  but  the  time,  he  said,  must  depend  on  your 
plans,  for  the  summer  campaign ;  also,  he  told  me, 
that  he  must,  very  shortly,  pass  a  couple  of  days  at 
Sir  W.  Barker’s.  This  led  me  to  ask  his  Grace, 
whether  your  coming  this  week,  or  somewhat  later, 
might  be  most  convenient ;  and  he  was  disposed  to 
think  the  latter.  I  then  produced  your  letters,  and 
read  about  the  conference ;  and  he  decidedly  agrees 
with  me,  in  thinking  your  presence  may  be  of  im¬ 
portance.  Then,  I  suggested  the  notion  of  outgoing 
to  England,  immediately  after  conference,  and  re¬ 
turning  by  way  of  Waterford;  so  as  that  your  visit 
might  be  paid,  after  his  Grace’s  return  from  B.  Spel- 
lan ;  an  arrangement,  with  which  he  seemed  per¬ 
fectly  satisfied,  as  most  desirable  and  convenient  for 
all  parties  :  giving  us  the  finest  part  of  the  year  in 
England,  and  leaving  him  the  prospect  of  uninter¬ 
ruptedly  enjoying  you  at  Cashel,  towards  the  close 
of  summer.  I  conclude,  therefore,  that  you  will 
postpone  your  journey  hither.  The  Archbishop  will 
go  next  week  to  Sir  W.  B.’s ;  the  week  after,  on 
the  22d  instant,  will  be  the  visitation ;  and  should 


554 


nothing  intervene,  on  monday  the  25th,  if  you  do  not 
forbid  me,  I  meet  you  in  Dublin  ;  and  we  can  settle 
matters  for  sailing,  immediately  after  conference. 
This  is  a  dull,  heavy,  prosing  statement,  full  of  ‘  said 
he’s’,  and  ‘  said  IV  ;  for  which  a  confused  aching 
head  must  be  my  excuse.  It  will  abundantly  answer 
my  purpose,  however,  if  it  conveys  my  meaning  ; 
but  especially,  if  you  do  not  disapprove  of  the 
manner,  in  which  I  have  arranged  matters  with  the 
Archbishop. 

I  have  but  a  moment  to  thank  you,  for  your  most 
kind  and  invaluable  gift  of  Fleury,  as  well  as  for 
securing  me  Basil. 

Yours  ever, 

J.  J. 


LETTER  7 6. 
To  the  Rev .  J.  Jehb. 


June  13.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  must  be  very  brief ;  but  I  do  not  wish  to  let  an 
opportunity  pass,  of  giving  you  all  the  fixedness  of 
feeling  I  can,  relative  to  our  movements.  I  like  all 
you  say,  except  the  return  by  Waterford.  That,  I 
own,  I  revolt  from  ;  but  shall  be  ready  to  hear  your 
answers  to  my  objections.  One,  however,  may  not 
be  possible  to  answer ;  I  feel  myself  bound,  by  your 
going,  to  give  Miss  Fergusson  the  gratification  of 
being  of  the  party.  I  need  not  tell  you,  that  it  will 


555 


make  it  much  more  pleasant  to  us ;  and,  to  her,  it 
will  be,  please  Providence,  one  of  the  highest  recrea¬ 
tions  a  human  creature  could  enjoy.  Hers  is  just 
the  mind,  for  drinking  in  such  a  pleasure ;  now  I 
need  say  nothing  more,  to  explain  the  difficulty.  It 
will  be  plain  I  must  reconduct  Miss  F.  home,  before 
I  can  go  any  where.  I  should  not  be  sorry,  I  own, 
to  see  her  at  Cashel,  but  that  would  not  become  me 
to  intimate ;  and,  in  fact,  I  never  wish  to  be  promo¬ 
vent  in  any  thing.  The  26th,  I  purpose  being  in 
Dublin. 

It  is  curious,  how  active  the  R.  C.s  are  in  pub¬ 
lishing.  It  seems  as  if  they  wanted  to  bring  forward 
all  their  force ;  in  order  to  that  force  being  brought 
to  a  final  trial.  There  are  interesting,  and  important 
things  in  Hawarden.  He  was  far  from  illiberal, 
considering  his  belief  What  a  noble  saying  that  is, 
at  the  end  of  the  first  paragraph,  Vol.  I.  Preface, 
page  xi. 

But  oh !  how  much  is  to  be  settled  on  all  sides ! 
among  protestants,  no  less  than  among  R.  C.s!  I 
own  to  you,  I  seem  to  myself  to  be  continually  rising 
on  that  fair  hill,  which  Providence  has  set  me  upon, 
and  given  me  the  ambition  to  scale.  And  I  almost 
think,  that,  as  I  rise,  the  horizon  grows  wider,  and, 
in  some  degree,  more  luminous. 

I  must  say  not  one  word  more ;  as  Mrs.  B.,  who 
carries  this  to  town,  has  summoned  me. 

Ever  yours, 


A.  K. 


556 


LETTER  LX XXV. 


To  A.  Knox ,  Esq . 


Cashel,  June  16.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

This  night,  I  received  your  short,  but  most  pleasant 
and  acceptable  letter.  I  rejoice  in  the  acquisition  to 
our  party.  Our  pleasure  will  be  greatly  heightened ; 
and  not  least,  I  trust,  by  being  witnesses,  and  to  the 
best  of  our  power,  promoters  of  Miss  Fergusson’s  en¬ 
joyment,  in,  I  believe,  her  first  visit  to  England.  As 
to  Waterford,  it  is  very  far  from  essential  to  the 
scheme,  on  any  ground  that  I  know  of;  that,  and  all 
other  matters  of  detail,  we  can  settle  when  we  meet. 
All  I  wish  to  be  laid  down,  is,  that  we  return  to  Cashel 
together ;  and  I  hope  that  the  whole  party  will  be 
united,  in  the  finale  of  the  jaunt.  If  there  be  no 
providential  impediment,  I  hope  to  leave  this  on 
tuesday,  the  27th  instant. 

I  have  had  a  kindly  letter  from  worthy  Mr.  Kerr, 
of  the  methodist  book-room.  Take  care  that  your 
kindness  has  not  made  you  relinquish  in  my  favour, 
what  you  ought  to  retain  for  yourself.  You  may 
guess  that  I  gladly  send  a  request,  that  the  invaluable 
‘  Christian  Library’,  might  be  reserved  for  me.  But, 
remember,  if  you  wish  it,  that  you  are  the  rightful 
owner.  I  procured  from  London,  32  vols.  of  Wes¬ 
ley’s  works;  and  also  7>  of  psalms,  hymns,  and  sacred 
poems.  The  Christian  Library,  to  my  no  small  dis- 


557 

I  y 

appointment,  had  been  sold,  before  I  wrote  to  Lack- 
ington. 

Farewell,  my  dearest  Friend, 

J»  J. 


LETTER  77* 

To  the  Rev .  J .  Jebb . 


Bellevue,  June  20.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Y our  letter,  which  had  lain  a  day  or  two  in  Dublin, 

reached  me  here  last  night.  While  I  was  reading 

it,  I  had  pleasure  in  thinking,  that,  before  that  time, 

you  had  mine  in  your  hands. 

#  #  *  #  *  # 

I  presume  you  will,  about  this  time,  be  in  pos¬ 
session  of  the  Edinburgh  Review.  What  a  set  of 
rough  riders  they  are !  And  yet  how  much  substantial 
truth  do  they  throw  out.  I  laughed  over  the  critique 
on  Mr.  John  Stiles,  as  much  as  1  have  done  in  reading 
any  thing.  The  attack  on  Coelebs  is  coarse  and 
indiscriminative  ;  bespeaks  gross  ignorance  of  facts, 
and  unkindly  feelings  to  all  religious  strictness,  how¬ 
ever  wisely  adopted,  or  philosophically  justifiable. 
Still,  there  is  truth  spoken.  They  do  catch  the  secret 
of  methodism,  in  every  page  of  the  work  ;  and  the 
antipathy  which  is  thereby  called  forth,  is  not  wholly 
and  solely,  enmity  against  goodness,  let  the  aggrieved 
parties  think  as  they  may.  The  ground  of  the  dis¬ 
like  is  fully  laid  open,  in  the  philippic  against  Mr. 
John  Stiles  ;  and  who,  that  can  judge,  will  say,  that 


05  8 


the  vulnerable  parts  are  not  adroitly  hit ;  or  that  the 
inductions  are  not,  in  several  deeply  important  in¬ 
stances,  as  irresistible,  as  they  are  revolting. 

Yours  ever, 

A.  K. 

P.  S.  Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  look  for,  and 
bring  with  you,  my  letter  to  you,  containing  the  out¬ 
line  of  the  New  Testament  hierarchical  establishment; 
the  Ephesian  business,  you  know  :  I  succeeded  pretty 
well  in  putting  down  my  thoughts  compendiously  ; 
and  I  wish  to  copy,  what  I  then  wrote. 


LETTER  78. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb. 

Bellevue,  June  21.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  write  a  single  line  to  say,  that  you  ought  to  put 
up,  when  you  are  coming  off,  as  many  sermons  as 
you  can  conveniently  stow ;  that  is,  about  half  a 
dozen :  not  that  you  would  have  a  call  for  such  a 
number ;  but  that  you  might  have  choice,  if  you 
should  any  where  be  called  upon. 

Mark  that  curious  commencement  of  the  article 
on  Morehead’s  discourses.  I  am  not  disposed  to 
give  the  Edinburgh  Reviewers,  a  bit  more  credit 
than  they  deserve ;  but  still,  when  they  speak  truth, 
they  deserve  to  be  listened  to ;  and  when  they  ac¬ 
cord  with  us,  we  have  some  reason  to  wonder,  as 
well  as  be  gratified.  In  the  paragraphs  I  refer  to, 


559 


however,  there  are  awful,  as  well  as  important  truths. 
And  the  remedy  for  the  evil,  which  they  point  out,  is 
astonishingly  hit  off ;  though  they  are  far,  from  either 
understanding,  or  loving,  the  substance  of  that  sys¬ 
tem,  which  they  endeavour  to  bring  into  notice.  Of 
this,  their  mode  of  talking,  generally,  would  be  a 
sufficient  proof;  but  they  directly  evince  it,  by  sup¬ 
pressing  some  of  Burnet’s  strong  expressions.  And 
an  additional  evidence  arises,  from  their  critique  of 
Taylor’s  Plato.  Their  views  of  the  later  platonists, 
are,  I  dare  say,  not  wholly  unjust;  but  their  repre¬ 
sentation  of  Plato  himself,  is  clearly  erroneous.  He 
does  put  forth  positive  principles ;  and  does  put 
them  into  the  mouth  of  Socrates.  For  instance,  in 
the  Phsedo. 

Yours  ever, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  LXXXVI. 

To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 

Cashel,  June  23.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

###### 

As  to  the  success  of  certain  ways  of  thinking,  no  one 
can  feel  more  thoroughly  than  I  do,  that  it  must  be 
altogether  oupotvoQsv.  Providence,  it  is  true,  may,  and 
doubtless  will,  raise  instruments  to  promote  what  is 
true  and  good.  But  what  mortal  can  presume  to  de- 


560 


cide,  upon  what  is  the  chosen  instrumentality?  Here, 
the  utmost  in  our  power,  is,  to  speculate  with  mo¬ 
desty,  on  present  probable  co-agency  :  and  to  do  so, 
not  only  with  great  sobriety,  but  no  more  than  is  ne¬ 
cessary  for  our  own  immediate  guidance,  I  feel  to  be, 
if  not  an  absolute  duty,  at  least  the  more  prudent, 
safe,  and  comfortable  course.  Man,  or  men,  can  in 
truth  do  nothing  ;  nothing  of  themselves.  But  it  is 
the  grand  consolation,  that,  whatever  of  important 
truth  has,  hitherto,  been  apprehended,  will  never  be 
suffered  to  perish.  Attributing,  as  from  my  heart  you 
know  I  do,  great  wisdom  and  rightness  to  certain 
favourite  principles,  I  have  the  firmest  conviction, 
that,  if  you,  and  all  who  in  any  measure  think  and 
feel  with  you,  were  to  be  this  moment  swept  from 
the  face  of  the  earth ;  the  same  principles,  the  same 
sentiments,  the  same  feelings,  would,  at  the  properest 
time,  be  committed,  by  Him  who  best  knows  how  to 
promote  his  own  cause,  to  the  most  suitable  instru¬ 
ments  and  agents  ;  by  them  to  be  improved,  matured, 
systematized,  promulgated,  and  finally  made  trium¬ 
phant  over  the  face  of  the  whole  earth.  With  this 
c tuvtsT^sioc  ravj  oucovmv  in  view,  how  can  we  be,  with 
any  justice,  uneasy,  about  the  intermediate  process? 
What  though  4  shadows,  clouds,  and  darkness’,  were, 
in  a  great  measure,  to  obscure  the  intervening  space  ; 
it  is  surely,  a  great  thing,  to  behold  the  sun-gilt  emi¬ 
nence,  in  our  horizon,  distinctly  marked,  and  exhi¬ 
biting,  at  once,  the  boldest,  and  the  loveliest  features: 
and,  it  is  still  greater,  humbly  to  trust,  that  we  are, 
individually,  in  progress  towards  that  holy  mountain, 
where  none  shall  hurt  nor  destroy.  If  indeed,  we  may 
hope,  that  we  are  to  be  employed,  in  any  degree, 
in  promoting  the  great  consummation,  it  is  surely 
cause  of  unspeakable  thankfulness  and  joy.  But 


56 1 


even  if  we  should  clearly  be  set  aside,  there  would  be 
no  just  ground  to  repine,  or  even  strongly  to  regret; 
for  our  own  individual  rightness  being  secured, 
(which,  after  all,  is  our  great  business,  the  rest  flowing 
out  of  this,)  it  surely  matters  little,  whether  the  great 
scheme  be  materially  advanced,  now,  or  fifty,  or  a 
hundred  years  hence.  The  end  will  set  all  right. 

I  know  not  whether  all  I  have  said,  may  be  clearly 
intelligible  :  but,  so  far  as  I  can  understand  myself, 
it  is  not  only  my  deliberate  judgment,  but  my  settled 
practical  feeling.  Doubtless,  from  bodily,  or  mental 
malady,  this  train  of  thought  and  sentiment  is  fre¬ 
quently  diverted ;  but,  on  the  calmest  reflection,  I 
am  happy  to  think,  that,  whenever  I  am  myself,  it 
returns  ;  and  I  seem  even  to  perceive,  that  it  returns 
with  considerable  addition  of  strength,  flowing  from 
the  temporary  diversion  ;  as  when  a  deviating  branch 
returns  to  its  parent  river,  recruited  by  fresh  streams. 
Discipline,  is  the  nurse,  if  not  the  mother  of  wisdom. 

Yours  entirely, 

John  Jebb. 

Hnfcq  'i 

P. S.  I  have  just  received  your  short  letter;  and 
shall  attend  to  your  direction  about  sermons.  I  have 
not  seen  a  No.  of  the  Edin.  Rev.  since  the  25th,  and 
am,  therefore,  at  least  two  Nos.  in  arrear  ;  but  it  is 
curious,  that,  even  from  former  Nos.,  H.  W.  and  I 
have  been  disposed  to  view  them  as  allies ;  irregular 
skirmishers,  to  be  sure,  and  with  an  odd  war-whoop 
of  their  own,  but  still  allies.  One  strong  example  is, 
what  they  said,  some  Nos.  since,  about  missions.  It 
is  a  pleasant  thing,  for  the  congruities  to  be  brought 
out,  between  good  sense  without  religion,  and  good 
sense  with  religion  ;  inasmuch  as  this  may  give  us  a 
purchase,  by  which  we  may  gain  over  people,  from 
vol.  i.  •  o  o 


5GC2 


irreligion,  to  religion.  This  observation,  I  made  this 
evening  to  the  Archbishop,  before  receiving  your 
last.  He  instantly  accorded.  ‘  Yes  \  said  he,  ‘  it  is  a 
£0£  7 rou  (tto)  : ’  —  was  not  this  well  ? 


LETTER  79. 
To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb . 


Dawson  St.,  Dec.  6.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  am  looking  particularly  at  L — *s  Bampton  Lec¬ 
tures  ;  in  the  notes  to  which,  there  is  a  great  deal 
of  interesting  matter.  The  point  is  clearly  made  out, 
that  Cranmer  had  the  lutheran  confession  of  faith  in 
his  view ;  and  adhered  to  it,  whenever  moderation 
did  not  require  that  it  should  be  dropped  for  a  time. 

But  L -  does  not  enough  see,  that  our  reformers 

were  not  founders  of  a  church.  He  does  not  enough 
see,  that,  in  recognizing  the  right  of  the  church  to 
decide  in  controversies  of  faith,  there  was  an  alle¬ 
giance  to  the  church  catholic,  acknowledged  by  our 
church  ;  which  reduces  all  that  was  done  about 
articles  and  homilies,  to  such  a  municipal  rank,  as  to 
make  it,  of  necessity,  but  subordinately  and  condi¬ 
tionally  obligatory,  even  on  subscribers.  In  such  a 
subscription,  the  rights  of  the  church  catholic  were 
self-evidently  saved,  by  the  simultaneous  acknow¬ 
ledgment  of  those  rights  :  it  being,  not  the  church 
of  England  merely,  but,  a  fortiori  at  least,  the 
church  universal,  which  ought  to  be  listened  to.  If, 
therefore,  the  church  of  England,  has  unwittingly 


563 


attested  any  thing,  contrary  to  the  voice  of  the  church 
catholic,  she  has  placed  herself  under  correction,  by 
the  paramount  principle  which  she  has  acknowledged; 
and  all  her  specific  propositions  are,  of  course,  to  be 
limited,  by  her  primary  concession. 

Yours  unalterably, 

Alex.  Knox. 

P.  S.  How  near  was  I  forgetting,  what  I  ought  not 
to  forget.  You  are  to  know,  that  an  early  day  is  a 
great  object,  at  the  Asylum,  for  the  charity  sermons  ; 
accordingly,  with  difficulty,  the  third  Sunday  in  Fe¬ 
bruary  has  been  taken  possession  of.  I  do  not  know 
how  this  will  suit  you  ;  but  I  venture  to  say,  that  the 
day  cannot  be  well  altered.  I  therefore  tell  you  in 
time  ;  that  you  may  think,  and  act  accordingly. 


LETTER  LXXXVII. 

To  A .  Knox ,  Esq. 

Cashel,  Dec.  6.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

You  may  naturally  begin  to  wonder  at  me ;  and,  in 
truth,  I  wonder  at  myself.  I  have  not,  however, 
been  so  negligent  as  I  must  appear ;  for  I  have  now 
on  my  table,  a  letter  written  to  you,  dated  the  22d 
November ;  which,  by  some  oversight,  I  neglected 
sending  to  the  post  that  day,  and  afterwards  intended 
to  replace,  by  something  fuller.  Since  my  return,  a 
smart  cold  has  kept  me  pretty  closely  confined  to  the 
house.  Some  time  was  necessarily  given  to  unpack- 

o  o  2 


564 


ing,  more  to  arranging,  and  most  of  all,  to  looking 
over  my  books,  so  as  to  form  an  acquaintance  with 
them.  They  have  all  arrived  in  high  preservation. 
The  expences  of  them,  from  London,  somewhat  ex¬ 
ceeded  10/.  I  took  one  liberty,  which  I  know  not 
whether  you  will  think  justifiable  ;  namely,  with  very 
slight  alterations,  I  preached  your  Whitsunday  ser¬ 
mon,  which  improved  on  me,  as  I  became  better 
acquainted  with  it.  What  I  chiefly  admire  is,  that  it 
familiarizes  a  subject,  which  is  too  seldom  familiarly 
treated ;  and  gives  definite  and  rationally  intelligible 
views,  instead  of  vague  and  rapturous  declamation. 
Last  Sunday,  I  preached  a  sermon,  which  I  wrote  in 
the  preceding  week  :  if  it  be  not  one  of  my  best,  (and 
I  think  it  is  not,)  neither  is  it,  by  any  means,  one  of 
my  worst.  There  is  some  flow  in  it ;  and  to  have 
done  any  thing,  is  rather  encouraging. 

You  will  be  pleased  to  hear,  that  I  rather  enjoy  my 
nest ;  that  the  bird’s  wings  do  not  begin  to  flutter  for 
another  flight.  Naturam  expellas  furca  tamen  usque, 
&c. ;  before  I  was  sixteen,  I  scribbled  verses  in  praise 
of  solitude;  and,  even  then,  occasional  seclusion  was 
my  best  medicine,  when  any  thing  wrong  within, 
ruffled  my  mind,  or  depressed  my  spirits.  It  is,  there¬ 
fore,  not  wonderftd,  that,  after  having  been  near  five 
months  in  uninterrupted  society,  retirement  should 
be  felt  to  have  some  charms,  and,  I  trust,  some  ad¬ 
vantages.  I  have  been  taking  a  full,  and  certainly 
not  a  morbid  retrospect  of  my  deportment,  during 
our  never-to-be-forgotten  journey ;  and  I  must  take 
shame  to  myself,  for  having  too  often  indulged  a  ca¬ 
villing,  disputatious  spirit,  when  it  should  much  rather 
have  been  my  delight  to  listen  and  improve,  and 
thankfully  avail  myself  of  the  uncommon  advantages 
with  which  I  was  blest.  This,  I  say  soberly,  deli- 


565 


berately,  and  after  making  every  fair  allowance  for 
the  state  of  my  health.  You  well  know,  that  ‘  bad 
nerves,  bad  health,  and  naturally  bad  spirits’,  were 
insufficient  to  disturb  the  sweet  benignity  of  Benson. 
And  I,  too,  though  far  from  the  ‘  templa  serena  ’, 
which  this  good  man  had  happily  reached,  might  have 
borne  up  better,  if  I  had  more  diligently  sought  the 
best  aid,  and  improved  the  means  of  self-discipline, 
that  were  within  my  power.  I  am  now  most  conscious, 
that,  in  almost  every  instance,  where  we  differed  in 
opinion,  I  was  wrong ;  particularly,  on  different  oc¬ 
casions  at  Mr.  Stock’s*  ;  at  B - ,  when  we  talked 

of  Cowper’s  imitation  of  Horace ;  and  in  the  con¬ 
versation  about  Hannah  More,  the  last  day  I  dined 
with  you.  Your  patience  and  forbearance,  now  sur¬ 
prize  me ;  and  I  have  recalled  to  my  mind  many  in¬ 
stances,  in  which  you  took  the  kindest  pains  to  save 
me  from  little  uneasinesses,  though  I  am  sure  many 
more  such  instances,  will  never  be  known  to  me,  at 
least  in  this  life.  If  I  were  sure  that  what  has  passed, 
may  not  have  lowered  me,  both  in  your  esteem  and 
affection,  I  should  not  greatly  regret  it.  The  tend¬ 
ency  and  temper  were  manifestly  in  me  ;  and  was  it 
not,  on  the  whole,  desirable,  that  they  should  show 
themselves  ?  It  is  hard  to  combat  with  a  hidden  foe  ; 
and  an  unsuspected  ambuscade,  is  next  to  inevitable. 
I  now  know  the  quarter  on  which  I  am  exposed,  as 
well  as  the  enemy  I  have  to  guard  against.  I  shall, 
however,  make  no  professions  ;  for  professions  are 
dangerous  things.  Let  me  simply  add,  that,  even  if 
truth  had  been  on  my  side,  I  too  often  expressed  my- 

*  Thomas  Stock,  Esq.,  of  Bristol;  whose  friendship  Bishop  Jebb  ever 
esteemed,  as  among  the  most  valued  blessings  of  his  life.  In  justice  to  the 
Bishop’s  memory,  the  editor  cannot  omit  this  name,  and  must  only  throw  himself 
on  his  excellent  friend’s  indulgence  for  thus  inserting  it. 

o  o  3 


566 


self  in  a  manner,  not  to  say  in  terms,  that  truth  itself 
could  by  no  means  justify.  Francis  de  Sales  has  fur¬ 
nished  me  with  two  maxims,  which  I  wish  never  to 
forget,  and  which  I  have  placed  like  a  motto,  fully 
intelligible  only  to  myself,  in  the  very  front  of  my 
scrap  book.* 

‘  11  faut  mieux  taire  une  verity  que  de  la  dire  de  mauvaise 
grace  : 

Le  silence  judicieux,  est  toujours  meilleur,  qu’une  verite  non 
charitable.’ 

As  I  was  finishing  the  last  sentence,  your  most 
welcome  letter  was  brought  in  to  me  ;  the  subscrip¬ 
tion  of  it,  ‘  yours  unalterably’,  was  peculiarly  con¬ 
soling  to  me,  amidst  fears,  which  I  could  not  help 
entertaining,  that  I  had  given  but  too  much  cause  for 
alteration.  I  shall  now  be  more  disposed  to  hope, 
that  all  may  yet  be  well.  By  the  way,  tell  my  kind 
friend  Miss  Fergusson,  with  my  best  regards,  that  I 
feel  it  an  act  of  justice,  not  more  to  the  memory  of 
Francis  de  Sales,  than  to  my  own  poor  judgment,  to 
retract,  as  I  now  do  most  fully,  whatever  of  a  depre¬ 
ciating  nature  I  may  have  said,  of  that  bien-heureux. 
He  was  not  only  one  of  the  best,  but  most  judicious 
of  human  beings  ;  and  I  rejoice  in  having  so  much  of 
his  remains.  I  wish  you,  very  particularly,  to  look 
at  Saint  Augustine  de  doctrina  Christiana ;  Lib.  iv. 
cap.  20. ;  and  to  begin  with  the  words,  ‘  in  illis  autem 
apostolicis  verbis,  dictio  temperata  est,  &c.’  ;  and  to 
end  ‘  haec  inde  non  transtulit.’  There  is  something, 
in  all  this,  wonderfully  accordant  with  our  views  of 
hebrew  poetry.  If  you  think  with  me,  and  would 
like  something  of  the  same  stamp,  I  will  transcribe,  in 
my  next,  some  very  remarkable  passages  of  Erasmus. 

*  The  Bishop’s  scrap-books,  of  which  he  left  several,  were  all  formed  in  the 
spirit  of  this  motto.  .  .  Ed. 


56  7 


I  had  been  anxious  to  hear  about  your  health.  I 
rejoice  in  having  an  account,  on  the  whole,  so  favour¬ 
able.  The  weather  has  been,  indeed,  trying.  I  have 
had  my  own  share  of  indisposition  ;  and  I  trust  a 
change  will  do  us  both  good.  I  believe  we  should 
both  do  well  to  walk,  but  you  have  more  induce¬ 
ments. 

Farewell,  and  believe  me  ever, 

Your  most  cordially  attached, 

John  Jebb. 

P.  S.  I  happened  on  a  little  sentence  or  two,  in 
Clemens  Alexandrinus,  that  pleased  me  mightily. 
A yocSog  [x ev  o  Qsog  §/’  eowtov,  Oixuiog  %s  rfis  8/'  y[X0Lg,  xott 
toutq  on  ayotQog.*  And  again,  ttqiv  yap  xt/o'ttjv  ysvEcr- 
6a/,  ©£0£  7)Vf  oLyctSog  r)Vc  xou  S/a  touto,  xcli  <bjpt/ougy  og, 
xou  Trarrjg  7}&E7ir)G'EV.t  Tom.  i.  ix.  p.  150. 

I  make  a  little  use  of  my  books.  St  Augustine 
will  have  his  share  of  my  attention  and  regard.  What 
think  you  of  what  follows  ?  I  take  it  from  my  scrap¬ 
book.  4  Festinemus  itaque  ad  illud  bonum,  quod 
neque  locis  grassatur,  nec  tempore  volvitur  ;  et  unde 
speciem  formamque  accipiunt  omnes  locales,  tempo- 
ralesque  naturae.  Ad  quod  videndum,  mundemus 
cor,  per  fidem  domini  nostri,  Jesu  Christi ;  qui  ait, 
Beati  mundi  corde,  quoniam  ipsi  videbunt  Deum. 
Non  autem  eos  oculos  ad  illud  bonum  cernendum 
praeparari  oportet,  quibus  cernitur  lux  ista  diffusa  per 
locos,  et  non  ubique  integra,  sed  aliam  partem  hie 
habens,  alibi  aliam.  Verum  ilium  aspectum  aciemque 
purgemus,  quo  cernitur,  quantum  in  hac  vita  licet, 

*  God  is  good,  for  his  own  sake,  but  just,  on  our  account;  and  he  is  just, 
because  he  is  good. 

f  Before  he  became  Creator,  he  was  God,  he  was  goodness  ;  and  because  he 
was  God  and  goodness,  therefore  he  willed  to  become,  both  our  Creator,  and 
our  Father; 


O  O  4 


568 


quid  sit  justum,  quid  pium,  quid  sit  sapiential  pulchri- 
tudo .  .  quge,  quisquis  cernit,  praeponit  longe  omnium 
localium  spaciorum  plenitudini ;  et  sentit,  ut  ista 
cernat,  non  per  locorum  spacia  diffundi  aciem  mentis 
sua?,  sed  incorporea  potentia  stabiliri.’* — .Lib.  Cont. 
Epist.  Manich.  cap.  xli. 


LETTER  80. 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jehh. 


Dawson  St.,  Dec.  9.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Though  I  can  say  but  little  by  this  post,  I  must  say 
something.  Words  cannot  express,  how  much  I  have 
your  well-being  at  heart :  therefore,  I  rejoice  with  all 
my  soul,  in  every  sentiment  of  yours,  whether  fully 
warranted  by  past  facts,  or  not,  which  implies  energy 
in  the  mental  ‘vis  medicatrix  naturae’.  You  more 
than  do  justice  to  my  movements  toward  you ;  and 
you  are,  at  least,  not  a  bit  indulgent  to  yourself. 
But  severity  to  one’s  self,  is  a  good  side  to  err  upon  : 

*  Let  us  hasten  towards  that  good,  which  is  neither  measured  by  space,  nor 
circumscribed  by  time  ;  and  from  which  all  local,  and  temporal  existences,  derive 
their  figure  and  fashion.  For  the  better  discernment  of  which  good,  let  us 
cleanse  our  hearts,  by  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  who  saith,  ‘  Blessed  are  the 
pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God.’  If,  however,  we  would  discern  that  good, 
we  must  make  use  of  very  different  eyes,  from  those  by  which  that  local,  and 
broken  light,  of  which  one  part  is  here,  another  there,  is  to  be  discerned.  But 
let  us  purge  that  eye-sight,  by  which  we  may  perceive,  so  far  as  our  present  im¬ 
perfect  state  will  allow,  what  is  just,  what  pious,  and  what  the  beauty  of  wisdom  : 
which  things,  whosoever  can  discern,  he  far  prefers  them  to  the  fulness  of  uni¬ 
versal  space  ;  and  feels,  that,  in  order  to  discern  these  things,  his  mind’s  eye  must 
not  be  diffused  over  local  space,  but  fixed  steadily  upon  its  object  by  incorporeal 
power. 


569 


I  must,  therefore,  say,  I  never  did  receive  a  letter 
from  you,  which  gave  me  such  deep  comfort  and 
satisfaction. 

Your  being  able  to  write  a  sermon  for  last  Sunday, 
and  the  account  you  gave  of  it,  are  highly  gratifying 
to  me. 

As  a  subject  [for  the  Asylum  sermon]  I  have 
thoughts  of  ‘  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee  ;  go  and  sin 
no  more.5*  The  first  words  teach  us,  how  we 
should  feel,  towards  sinners  through  ignorance,  . . 
misguidedness,  .  .  unhappy  combination  of  circum¬ 
stances.  The  latter  words  show,  how  such  objects 
of  commiseration  are  to  feel,  when  once  favoured  with 
sufficient  light,  and  bettered  circumstances.  How 
you  could  expand  these  topics,  I  cannot  pronounce. 
I  would  say,  that  this  voice  of  our  Saviour  was  in 
wonderful  unison,  with  his  own  scheme  of  providence; 
in  which  he  beareth  with  the  wicked  daily  :  a  fact 
which  is  astonishing,  considering  how  much  is  daily 
done  to  provoke  God.  But  why  does  he  thus  for¬ 
bear  ?  Evidently,  because  ‘  he  is  gracious,  and  his 
mercy  endureth  for  ever.’  He  looketh  over  all  the 
earth ;  and  he  sees,  that  the  majority  of  sinners,  al¬ 
lowing  full  atrocity  to  be  in  their  sins,  are  really  ob¬ 
jects  of  compassion  ;  because,  in  the  majority,  there  is 
ignorance,  misguidedness,  and,  very  often,  infelicity  of 
circumstances.  This,  the  more  the  case  is  impartially 
looked  into,  will  be  found  to  be  the  truth.  But  is 
it  not  a  dangerous  truth  ?  No  :  for  it  is  thus  limited. 
He  that,  from  knowing  it,  can  apply  it  to  his  own  ill- 

*  See  1  Sermons  on  Subjects  chiefly  practical’  ;  Sermon  X.  :  the  most  highly 
wrought  of  all  the  Bishop’s  discourses.  The  editor  possesses  the  original 
draughts  of  the  exordium ;  which  was  transcribed,  if  his  recollection  serves,  at 
least  thirty  times,  before  his  friend  felt  satisfied  with  the  effect ;  it  being  his  ob¬ 
ject  to  make  this  discourse  a  model  for  himself,  and  a  specimen  of  the  capabili¬ 
ties  of  the  English  language,  for  rhythmical  composition.  .  .  Ed. 


570 


founded  comfort,  has  no  right  whatever  to  make  the 
application.  That  ignorance,  which  constitutes  the 
apology,  ceases,  the  moment  that  light  enough,  to 
reason  upon  the  case,  has  entered  the  mind.  This, 
then,  is  the  beauty  of  our  Saviour’s  gracious  lan¬ 
guage,  that,  while  it  teaches  us  to  make  the  most 
extensive  allowance  for  others,  it  gives  us  no  war¬ 
rant  to  make  flattering  inferences  for  ourselves.  He 
knew  all  that  moved  within  the  bosom ;  therefore, 
he  could  safely  acquit ;  we  do  not  know  what  moves 
within  the  bosom  ;  therefore,  we  cannot  safely  con¬ 
demn.  Probably,  we  are  ignorant  of  other  men’s 
minds,  that  we  may  not  be  severe  upon  them.  Cer¬ 
tainly,  we  know  ourselves,  in  order  that  we  may  ex¬ 
ercise,  on  ourselves,  salutary  severity. 

But  it  was  not  mere  suavity  of  nature,  that  made 
our  Lord  speak.  He  did  not  condemn,  because  he 
came  to  save.  He  hated  the  sin,  but  he  loved  the 
sinner;  and  therefore,  all  he  said,  and  did,  was 
pointed  to  one  end,  .  .  the  making  mankind  better, 
individually  and  collectively.  Why,  then,  did  he 
say,  ‘  neither  do  I  condemn  thee?’  Was  it,  that  he 
did  not  reprobate  the  deed  done  ?  By  no  means ; 
but  that  he  might  win  this  soul  to  himself,  by  the 
attraction  of  kindness.  He  saw  this  to  be  possible ; 
and  he  teaches  us,  by  this  proceeding,  that  it  is  still 
equally  possible,  in  similar  cases.  He  gives  us  his 
divine  example,  too,  as  to  manner.  He  instructs  us, 
that,  even  in  the  most  desperate  cases,  gentleness 
and  tenderness  are  to  be  used,  so  long  as  they  can 
be  used.  That  even  gross  vice,  is  not,  in  the  first 
instance,  to  be  encountered  with  menaces  and  ful- 
minations  ;  but  that  a  fair  trial  is  to  be  made,  whether, 
under  the  most  unpromising  appearances,  there  may 
not  be  some  latent  spark  of  virtuous  sensibility, 


571 


which  may  be  roused  and  enkindled,  by  the  soft 
breath  of  charity  ;  while  the  opposite  method,  may 
not  only  4  break  the  bruised  reed’,  but  4  quench  the 
smoking  flax/ 

But,  as  was  said,  all  this  applies  to  us,  in  our 
conduct  toward  others.  The  only  part  that  an  indi¬ 
vidual  can  apply  to  himself,  is,  4  go  and  sin  no  more/ 
Here,  the  gentleness  passes  into  inexpressible  awful¬ 
ness  :  Go,  that  is,  forthwith :  commence  a  new 
course,  and  let  that  course  be  uniform.  You  have 
now  escaped,  because  Divine  goodness  saw  something 
to  excuse.  But  that  is  over  :  you  cannot  now  sin, 
as  you  did  once,  through  ignorance,  or  inadvertency. 
Your  future  crimes,  if  you  are  guilty  of  crimes,  will 
be  sins  against  light,  against  experience,  against  tried 
and  tasted  mercy ;  therefore,  sin  no  more ;  lest,  if 
the  unclean  spirit  should  enter  again,  he  might  take 
with  him  seven  devils  more  wicked  than  himself. 

Who  that  hears,  may  not  stand  in  this  danger? 
It  might  be  wished,  to  confine  such  a  warning,  to 
atrocious  instances.  But  it  may  not  be.  He  said  to 
that  paralytic,  against  whom  no  charge  was  made, 
4  Sin  no  more,  lest  a  worse  thing  come  upon  thee’ ; 
that  is,  he  spoke  to  him,  even  more  alarmingly,  than 
he  did  to  the  adulteress.  God  judgeth  not  of  faults, 
as  man  judgeth;  therefore,  who  can  tell,  how  oft  he 
oflendeth  ?  Uniform,  unremitting  vigilance,  over 
every  part  of  conduct,  inward  and  outward,  is  the 
only  sure  way  to  avert  this  menace  of  infinite  good¬ 
ness.  We  can,  then  only,  be  assured,  that  we  are 
safe  from  sinning  no  more,  when  we  are  growing  in 
grace,  and  in  the  knowledge,  &c. 

The  institution  embraces  both  parts  of  our  Lord’s 
gracious  dealing.  It  does  not  condemn  ;  but  it  does 
say,  4  sin  no  more/  How  glorious  the  example  !  how 


benignant  the  object !  This  is  an  emulating  of  angels, 
because  it  is  an  imitating  of  Christ. 

You  were  as  welcome  to  my  sermon  as  you  could 
be.  I  am  sincerely  gratified  by  your  liking  it.  Send 
me  all  manner  of  scraps.  Miss  Fergusson  sends  her 
love. 

Most  cordially  yours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  81. 

1  A  v. ,,  ?>C3  ,  yt  ki*.^  4-^.  °  ^  ^ 

•^5*  sJ  ^  f 

To  the  Rev .  J .  Jehb. 

Bellevue,  Dec.  27.  1809. 

My  dear  Friend, 

#  #  *  #  #  #  # 

#  #  #  #  *  #  # 

Pray  have  you  Dr.  Watts’s  works?  If  you  have 
not,  I  think  you  will  do  well  to  have  them.  They 
contain  more  to  our  purpose,  than  I  once  thought 
likely.  In  fact,  they  exhibit  a  very  singular  spectacle, 
of  a  mind,  partly  free,  and  partly  fettered.  And, 
though  the  incongruity,  arising  from  this  inward 
variance,  is  striking,  yet,  so  many  just  remarks  are 
made,  so  many  important  concessions  occur,  and 
so  many  useful  lessons  are  to  be  deduced  from  the 
entire  case;  that  I  cannot  but  consider  Watts,  as  oc¬ 
cupying  a  place  of  moment,  in  the  concatenated 
scheme.  At  an  earlier  stage,  I  consider  Baxter  and 
Owen,  as  opposite  inter  se.  Baxter  drawing  off  all 
that  was  sentimentally  and  philosophically  pious,  into 
one  reservoir ;  and  Owen,  all  that  was  dogmatically 
doctrinal,  into  another.  Now,  it  seems  to  me,  that 


57  3 


this  very  distinction  is  carried  on,  with  an  eye  to 
refined  usefulness,  in  Doddridge  and  Watts. 

In  Doddridge,  Baxter  is  filtrated,  and  in  a  manner 
sublimated.  I  do  not  mean  as  to  thought,  but  as  to 
pure  piety.  In  Watts,  Owen  is  subtilized,  exfoliated, 
and  untwisted.  But  with  not  the  very  effect,  I  think, 
that  the  latter  worthy  theological  chemist  intended. 
It  seems  he  hoped,  with  no  small  confidence,  that 
something  would  be  made  of  Calvinism,  which  would 
quadrate  with  improved  intellect,  and  enlarged  phi¬ 
losophy  :  for,  most  surely,  his  own  intellect  sought 
improvement ;  and  he  wished  to  unite  Christianity 
with  philosophy.  But  I  conceive,  that,  in  exact 
proportion  to  the  respectability  of  his  own  thinking 
and  reasoning  faculty,  he  evinces  the  utter  impos¬ 
sibility  of  accomplishing  what  he  aimed  at.  If  the 
theory  of  Christianity  could  not  be  made  out,  in  some 
better  manner  than  he  has  exemplified,  it  would  stand 
in  perilous  circumstances  ;  and  the  Christian  would 
be  much  to  be  pitied,  when  he  had  to  plead  his  cause 
at  the  bar  of  unsophisticated  reason.  All  this  ap¬ 
pears  the  more,  as  Watts  was  a  clear  and  candid 
reasoner.  Not  strong,  not  succinct,  not  luminous, 
most  certainly  ;  yet,  on  the  whole,  one  would  think, 
highly  capable  of  having  done  every  thing  better,  if 
his  views  had  been  more  just.  But,  then,  he  would 
not  have  shown,  what  he  shows  now,  the  intrinsic 
impossibility  of  Calvinism  being  reconciled,  with  the 
least  movement  of  unfettered  thought. 

Farewell,  my  dear  friend ;  for  it  is  past  one,  and  I 
grow  sleepy.  Every  blessing  to  which  this  blessed 
season  leads  the  thoughts,  I  wish  to  you, 

And  am,  most  cordially  yours, 

Alex.  Knox, 


574 


P.  S.  When  I  say  Watts  was  not  luminous,  I  mean 
strictly  to  distinguish  that  word  from  lucid  ;  for  this, 
I  think  he  was.  I  see  his  meaning  ever  ;  but  it  is, 
in  great  measure,  a  moonlight  meaning,  though  the 
heart  of  the  good  man  was  far  from  cold. 


LETTER  82. 

To  the  Rev .  J.  Jebb, 

Dawson  St.,  April.  6.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Little  or  much,  I  will  say  a  word  to  you,  to  tell  you 
that  the  Bristol  box  has  made  its  appearance,  and  all 
your  books  are  safe. 

#  #  #  *  #  #  # 

#  #  #  #  #  #  # 

Miller  was  brilliantly  attended  yesterday.*  The 
Chancellor,  Archbishops  of  Dublin  and  Tuam,  Chief 
Justice,  Commander  of  the  Forces,  various  Bishops, 
some  Lords,  Attorney-General,  and  Sir  Edward  Lit- 
tlehales  ;  two  military  generals,  besides  Lord  Harring¬ 
ton  ;  Ex-Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  Isaac  Corry : 
and  had  ladies  been  admissible,  there  would  have 
been  the  two  Duchesses t,  cum  multisaliis.  For,  had 
their  Graces  led,  who  would  not  have  followed  ?  It 
was  a  good  lecture  ;  but  too  recapitulatory  to  be 
particularly  striking  to  those,  who  had  been  constant 
auditors. 

I  have  discovered  a  queer  little  fact ;  that  my  old 

*  On  the  delivery  of  the  conclusion  of  a  course  of  lectures,  upon  the  philo¬ 
sophy  of  modern  history.  .  .  Ed. 

t  The  Duchesses  of  Richmond  and  Gordon, 


575 


friend,  Maclaine,  has,  in  various  instances,  without 
I  suppose  intending  it,  misrepresented  Mosheim’s 
meaning  ;  by  giving  his  own  idea  of  the  fact,  instead 
of  literally  adhering  to  the  purport  of  the  original. 

For  example  ;  Maclaine  says  what  follows,  respect¬ 
ing  the  settlement  of  the  church  of  England  by  Eli¬ 
zabeth  :  ‘  Thus  was  that  form  of  religion  established 
in  Britain,  which  separated  the  English,  equally, 
from  the  church  of  Rome  on  the  one  side,  and  from 
the  other  churches,  which  had  renounced  popery,  on 
the  other.’  But  Mosheim’s  own  words  are,  ‘  Hac 
ration  e,  ilia  quidem  veter is  religionis  correction  quse 
Britannos,  seque  a  pontihciis,  atque  a  reliquis  familiis, 
quae  pontificiis  dominationi  renunciarunt,  sejungit, 
firmata  et  stabilita.’  Again,  Maclaine  says,  ‘  If  we 
consider  the  genius,  and  spirit  of  the  church  of 
England,  during  that  period,  we  shall  plainly  see, 
that  the  doctrine  of  the  gomarists,  concerning  grace 
and  predestination,  could  not  meet,  there,  with  a 
favourable  reception ;  since  the  leading  doctors  of 
that  church,  were  zealous  in  modelling  its  doctrine 
and  discipline,  after  the  sentiments  and  institutions, 
that  were  received  in  the  primitive  times  ;  and  since 
those  early  fathers,  whom  they  followed  with  a  pro¬ 
found  submission,  had  never  presumed,  before  Au¬ 
gustine,  to  set  limits  to  the  extent  of  the  divine  grace 
and  mercy.’ 

What  a  paraphrase  is  this,  and  something  more 
than  a  paraphrase,  of  the  following  sentence  ? 

‘  Atque  hoc,  ut  acciderit,  necesse  poene  fuit,  quum 
Angli  ecclesiam  suam,  ad  primorum  seculorum  insti- 
tuta,  sententias,  et  leges,  componi  velint.  Patres 
autem,  quos  nominant,  ante  Augustinum,  a  decretis 
Dordracenis  plane  abhorruerint.’ 

These,  I  consider  as  a  fair  specimen  of  the  Doc- 


576 


tor’s  manner  of  rendering  his  original.  I  need  not 
call  your  observation,  to  the  entire  leaving  out  of 
‘  ilia  veteris  religionis  correction  in  the  first  pas¬ 
sage  ;  that  being  too  palpable  not  to  manifest  itself : 
but  I  would  point  out  to  you  the  curious  interpola¬ 
tion,  in  the  second,  of  ‘  during  that  period.’  You 
see,  clearly,  that  Mosheim  does  not  single  out  that 
period ;  but  speaks  of  the  Anglican  church,  in  its 
rooted  character.  The  wish  to  keep  it  primitive,  not 
being  the  peculiar  temper  of  that  age,  but  the  uni¬ 
form  spirit  and  feeling  of  all  the  Anglican  divines ; 
yet  Maclaine  would  seem  to  wish  to  put  the  An¬ 
glican  church  on  irresponsible  ground.  He  ap¬ 
pears  to  insinuate,  that  the  English  church  has  no 
fixt  belief,  but  is,  what  the  prevalent  party  may 
choose  to  make  it.  But  is  this  the  idea  of  Mosheim  ? 

I  must  end. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Friend,  and  believe  me 
ever  most  affectionately  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  LXXXVIII. 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq . 


April  11.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

From  a  mistake  of  my  servant,  I  did  not  receive 
your  most  acceptable  letter  till  yesterday ;  to  which 
I  cannot  now  say  more  than  a  few  words  in  reply. 
My  health  has,  on  the  whole,  been  not  such  as  I 
have  reason  to  complain  of;  but  the  fluctuations 


of  the  weather,  and  the  easterly  wind  of  the  last  few 
days,  have  affected  me.  I  trust  it  may  blow  over. 

The  Archbishop  desires  me  to  say,  that  he  will 
hold  an  ordination  for  Mr.  Jellett*  and  Mr.  Torrens, 
either  on  the  Sunday  before  Easter,  or  on  the 
tuesday  immediately  succeeding  ;  therefore  Mr.  J. 
had  better  manage  matters  so,  as  to  be  here  in  the 
course  of  Easter  week.  My  examination,  in  this 
case,  will  be  to  me  only  a  pleasant  morning’s  con¬ 
versation. 

I  took  the  opportunity  of  reminding  the  Arch¬ 
bishop,  of  my  letter  written  last  year,  as  to  the 
appointment  of  a  preacher  ;  and  I  suggested  Jellett 
for  the  situation.  More  and  more  do  I  feel,  that 
this  is  not  a  fit  sphere,  or  a  congenial  scene  for  me. 
I  am  damped  and  paralyzed,  by  the  pressure  of 
duties,  which  I  cannot  discharge,  and  from  the 
absence  of  opportunities  and  stimuli,  which  I  cannot 
create.  However,  for  the  present,  I  must  only 
acquiesce  in  what  is  the  will  of  Providence.  Shall 
I  just  now  urge  the  appointment  of  a  preacher,  and 
of  Jellett  as  the  man?  There  might  easily  be  made 
a  salary  of  7 5/.  The  Chapter  give  50/.,  I  would 
readily  give  25/.  myself 

Two  persons  are  talking  beside  me  ;  and  have 
been  so,  as  I  wrote  this  scrawl,  which  I  am  writing 
against  time. 

May  I  hope  for  a  line  by  return  of  post  ? 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Friend, 

Ever  most  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


*  The  late  Rev.  Morgan  Jellett,  M.  A. 


VOL.  I. 


P  P 


578 


LETTER  LXXXIX. 

To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 

>  •*  Cashel,  April  11.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

The  very  hurried  letter  that  I  wrote  this  morning, 
under  a  great  pressure  as  to  time,  and  with  much  of 
nervousness  about  me,  must,  I  am  conscious,  not 
add  to  your  comfort :  could  I,  at  this  moment, 
recal  it,  I  would  gladly  do  so  ;  but  ‘  volat  irrevo¬ 
cable.’  The  only  expedient  left,  therefore,  is,  that 
I  should  immediately  follow  it,  by  something  less 
incoherent.  That  there  are  certain  uneasinesses  and 
awkwardnesses,  attached  to  my  present  situation,  I 
cannot,  indeed,  but  feel ;  that  situation,  is,  how¬ 
ever,  I  am  well  assured,  a  wholesome  discipline : 
and  I  am  hopeful,  that  the  day  may  arrive,  when  I 
shall  far  more  distinctly  perceive  its  providential 
bearings,  and  more  unmixedly  feel  its  beneficial 
results.  As  it  is,  it  gives  scope  for  those  interior 
vicissitudes,  which,  perhaps  beyond  all  other  circum¬ 
stances,  give  us  a  measure  of  self-acquaintance,  and 
self- management : 

‘  The  lights  and  shades,  whose  well  accorded  strife 
Give  all  the  strength  and  colour  of  our  life/ 

In  the  quiet  of  my  little  book-room,  which  Pro¬ 
vidence  has  enabled  me  to  furnish  so  richly,  and 
especially  at  this  hour  of  the  night,  I  often  ex¬ 
perience  a  species  of  enjoyment,  which  would  be 
ill  exchanged,  for  all  that  mere  change  of  external 
circumstances  could  afford ;  though  that  change 
were  to  place  me,  in  the  most  enlarged  intellectual 


579 


sphere.  And  who  can  tell,  whether,  in  such  a 
sphere,  I  could  enjoy  my  books  and  my  fireside,  as 
I  sometimes  do?  Might  I  not  be  too  much  exterio- 
rated?  Might  I  not  live  too  much  upon  the  plea¬ 
sures  of  society  ?  Might  I  not  be  led  to  put  myself 
forth,  in  premature,  and  consequently,  in  abortive 
efforts?  The  world  has  great  allurement,  and  I  am 
conscious  of  great  weakness.  It  is  therefore,  I  dare 
venture  to  conclude,  both  most  wisely,  and  most 
kindly  ordered,  that  I  should  be  kept  back,  till  I 
have  attained  greater  strength. 

Many  thanks  for  the  interesting  matter  from 
Mosheim.  It  came  opportunely ;  for  I  shall,  I  trust, 
avail  myself  of  it  in  an  ordination  sermon,  now 
rolling  in  my  thoughts.  I  rejoice  in  Miller’s  cele¬ 
brity  ;  putting  out  of  the  question  love  of  the 
system,  and  kindly  feeling  towards  him,  it  is  truly 
pleasant  to  see  solid  ability  working  its  way,  by  mere 
weight  of  metal. 

Ever  most  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  XC. 


To  A .  Knox ,  Esq . 


April  14.  1810. 


My  dear  Friend, 

I  write  a  few  hasty  lines,  to  accompany  a  little 

paper  of - ’s,  of  which,  if  you  think  as  I  think, 

you  will  forward  it  to  the  editor  of  the  Christ.  Obs. 
I  wish  particularly  that  this  may  be  done,  because 

p  p  2 


580 


this  little  matter,  that  grew  out  of  a  conversation, 
evinces,  to  me  at  least,  a  capacity  of  writing  with 
ease,  on  practical  subjects  ;  and  of  passing,  with  a 
very  happy  facility,  from  obvious  matter  of  fact  con¬ 
siderations,  to  deep  metaphysical,  and  philosophical 

truths,  which - *,  by  all  means,  ought  to  cultivate  ; 

and  which  he  might  be  deterred  from  cultivating, 
if  this  effort  were  nipped  in  the  bud.  A  propos, 
have  you  yet  seen  the  No.  of  the  C.  O.  for  January  ? 
You  may  remember,  it  did  not  reach  you  in  due 
course.  On  opening  it,  I  was  not  a  little  surprised 
to  see,  in  the  front  of  it,  my  cviith  Psalm.  I  sup¬ 
pose  Mr.  - - thought  I  had  empowered  him  to  use 

it  as  he  saw  fit.  Had  I  known  his  intention,  I 
should  have  begged  to  make,  at  least,  two  cor¬ 
rections.  One,  of  the  mistake  as  to  the  two  semi¬ 
choruses.  N’importe.  Both  will  pass  muster. 

I  have  another  letter  to  write,  and  the  post  soon 
goes  out.  Therefore,  I  can  only  say,  that  I  am  ever, 
most  affectionately  yours, 

J.  Jebb. 


LETTER  83. 

To  the  Rev .  J .  Jehb. 

Dawson  St.,  April  16.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Lest  you  should  misconstrue  my  silence,  I  say 
something,  however  brief. 

I  need  say  no  more  I  believe,  for  the  present,  about 
* - >  than  I  said  on  fridav.  Your  feelings,  and 


581 


wishes,  must  ever  be  too  interesting  to  me,  to  imply 
the  shadow  of  a  shade  of  teazing.  To  whom  should 
you  tell  your  whole  mind,  but  to  me  ?  And  should 
I  be  annoyed  by  your  communication,  I  should  de¬ 
serve  neither  eyes  to  see  with,  nor  ears  to  hear  with. 
What  you  say,  will  ever  be  felt  and  weighed ;  and 
my  head  will  give  its  best  service  to  my  heart,  in  fur¬ 
nishing  an  answer.  What  you  yourself  so  well  and 
wisely  say,  added  to  thoughts  of  my  own,  makes  me 
look  up,  in  all  this,  to  a  higher  hand.  You  and  I  are 
both  machines  of  a  construction,  not  certain  to  go  on 
well,  with  common  treatment.  Deeply  do  I  feel, 
that  circumstances  have  been  exquisitely  adjusted,  to 
my  peculiar  case.  And  I  doubt  not  but  time  will 
show,  that  a  like  management  has  been  used  in 
yours. 

You  wished  me  to  mark  authorities,  corroborative 
of  Joseph  Mede’s  notion  of  the  primitive  spirit  of 
our  church.  In  reading  the  original  passages  from 
Mosheim,  I  meant  to  do  something  of  the  kind,  as 
well  as  to  communicate  a  curious  fact.  I  now  wish 
to  point  out  another  still  more  powerful  authority, 
which  I  need  only  refer  to,  if  I  were  sure  that  you 
had  Limborch’s  Epistolae  Virorum  Illustrium  et 
Eruditorum.  The  passage  I  am  going  to  give  you, 
occurs  in  a  letter  from  Bishop  Overal  to  Hugo 
Grotius  ;  in  which  the  following  remark  is  made, 
respecting  a  new  publication  of  the  latter. 

«  Credo  pauca  esse,  in  libro  tuo,  quae  Eliensi,  aliisque 
ex  doctioribus  nostrum,  non  piobentur,  nisi  forte  in 
illis  haereant,  quae  judicium  de  rebus  fidei  definitivum 
laicis  potestatibus  tribuere,  et  potestatem  ac  jurisdic- 
tionem  veram  pastorum  Ecclesiae  negare,  et  episco- 
patum  in  non  necessariis  ponere  videntur.  Tenent 
enim  nostri  judicium  de  rebus  fidei  definiendi  Sy- 

p  p  3 


582 


nodis  episcoporum,  aliorumque  doctorum  ministro- 
rum  Ecclesise,  ad  hoc  delectorum  et  convocatorum, 
deferendum  esse  ;  secundum  consuetudinem  veteris 
ecclesim,  ex  sacris  Uteris ,  per  consensum  veteris 
ecclesije,  non  privatum  spiritual  neotericum,  expli- 
catis ,  terminandum  V  *  There  is  more  to  the  same 
purpose,  but  this  is  the  most  material.  Should  you 
have  the  book,  the  page  is,  486. 

Ever  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  XCI. 
To  A.  Knox ,  Esq . 


Cashel,  April  16.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  am  greatly  pleased  with  what  you  tell  me  of  the 
Archbishop  of  Dublin.  That  he  should  criticize  my 
sermon,  and  object  to  particular  passages,  or  even 
to  my  view  of  the  text,  I  do  not  at  all  wonder ; 
but,  though  I  should  be  gratified  by  his  approving, 
I  really  think  the  sermon  a  minor  consideration. 

*  I  believe  there  are  but  few  things  in  your  book,  which  do  not  approve  them¬ 
selves  to  the  Bishop  of  Ely,  and  other  of  our  learned  men ;  unless,  perhaps,  they 
stick  at  those  parts,  which  seem  to  ascribe  the  right  of  definitive  judgment,  in 
matters  of  faith,  to  the  lay  authorities,  to  deny  the  true  power  and  jurisdiction  of 
the  pastors  of  the  church,  and  to  rank  episcopacy  among  mere  conventional  ordi¬ 
nances.  For  our  divines  hold,  that  the  right  of  definitive  judgment,  in  matters 
of  faith,  resides  exclusively  in  synods  of  bishops,  and  of  other  doctors  and 
ministers  of  the  church,  specially  elected,  and  assembled  in  convocation,  for 
this  end  ;  and  that,  conformably  with  the  usage  of  the  ancient  church,  this  judg¬ 
ment  is  to  be  pronounced  on  the  authority  of  holy  Scripture,  explained  by  the 
consent  of  Christian  antiquity,  not  by  a  private  and  neoteric  spirit. 


583 


What  I  like,  is,  his  copying  the  letter.  This  is  to 
have  done  business ;  his  object,  indeed,  may  be, 
only  to  have  the  facts  there  stated  ;  but  he  will  also 
have  the  principles  before  him  :  and  who  can  tell, 
what  effect  they  may  ultimately  produce  ?  At  all 
events,  it  is  no  trivial  matter,  that  his  Grace  should 
be  under  the  impression,  that  a  sober,  broad,  and 
intelligent  view  of  things,  can  be  taken  in  our 
school.  If  I  am  hereafter  to  grow  better  in  health, 
and  more  ready  with  my  pen,  does  it  not  look  as  if 
I  were  permitted  and  enabled,  (as  they  do  in  legal 
cases,  when  they  are  not  fully  prepared  for  a  trial,) 
from  time  to  time  to  put  in  an  appearance,  by  way 
of  keeping  the  cause  alive  ?  There  has  been  rolling 
in  my  mind,  for  the  last  ten  days,  the  scheme  of  an 
ordination  sermon.  I  have  not  been  sufficiently 
well  to  write  a  word  as  yet.  One  thing  I  have  done, 
indeed,  which  at  least  is  gratifying  as  a  recreation. 
I  have  collected  some  very  decided,  and  very  beau¬ 
tiful  testimonies,  that  our  church  reverences  Chris¬ 
tian  antiquity,  next  to  the  sacred  Scripture. 

I  wish  you  would  look  into  your  Griesbach  (I 
cannot  revert  to  him,  having  made  a  present  of  my 
copy  to  the  Archbishop,)  at  Ephesians,  v.  9.  There 
is  a  various  reading,  6  yap  xaqi rog  rou  (pcorog,  which 
I  believe  is  the  true  reading.  Wetstein  quotes 
numerous  authorities.  The  Alexandrine,  Beza’s, 
and  three  more  uncial  MSS.  Three  other  MSS.  of 
good  note.  Colindus’  edit.  The  Vulgate,  Syriac, 
Coptic,  and  Ethiopic  versions.  Gregory  Thauma- 
turgus,  Lucifer,  Hilary,  Jerome,  Pelagius,  Augus¬ 
tine,  Castalio,  Erasmus,  Grotius,  Mill  and  Bengeh 
To  which  testimonies,  I  would  add,  Ambrose,  The- 
ophylact,  Marcellinus,  Antherus,  Zezenus,  Thomas 
Gale,  Hammond,  Matthew  Poole.  Probably  Griesbach 

p  p  4 


584 


may  furnish  still  more.  The  internal  evidence,  I 
conceive,  is  strongly  in  favour  of  (pcoTog ,  not  only 
from  the  preceding  verse  .  .  8 ;  but,  also,  from  the 
antithetical  clause,  v.  11.,  Toig  epyoig  roig  ocxa.p7roig 
too  G-xoToog,  finely  opposed  to  the  xapirog  too  (fitorog, 
not  at  all  to  the  vulgar  reading.  Observe,  too,  how 
the  idea  of  light  is  adverted  to,  v.  13.  and  14.  In  Ga¬ 
latians,  v.  22.,  we  have,  indeed,  xapwog  too  irvEo^acTog, 
but  then  it  is  opposed  to  spya.9  (not  as  in  Ephesians, 
too  (rxoToog ,)  T7]g  Gocpxog.  By  the  way,  how  exquisite 
the  propriety  of  expression  in  both  epistles ! 


TOO  7rVEOU.Ct.TOg 

xocpirog  \  -  1 

r  I  TOO  (pCOTOg 


T7]g  Gapxog 

TOO  (TXOTOOg 


xa.pi rog9  on  the  good  side ;  spyct.  axapirot,  on  the  bad. 

Doddridge,  with  his  usual  love  of  indistinctness 
and  ambiguity,  says,  4  The  sense  is  the  same ;  but 
the  number  of  varying  manuscripts,  seems  not  suf¬ 
ficient  to  confirm  that  reading  (QcoTog),  Yet  I  have 
had  some  regard  to  it  in  the  paraphrase,  as  in  some 
other  instances  of  a  like  nature.’  I  humbly  con¬ 
ceive,  that  the  sense  is  very  different  Some,  we 
are  told,  bring  forth  fruit  thirty,  some  sixty,  some  an 
hundred  fold  ;  now,  is  it  not  probable,  and  is  it  not 
perfectly  accordant  with  the  schemes,  respectively, 
of  the  two  epistles,  and  the  condition  of  the  two 
churches,  that  the  passage  in  the  Galatians,  should 
relate  to  Sixouoo-ovr) ;  that,  in  Ephesians,  to  6cyia.G-fj.og ; 
the  former  to  apsrr j,  the  latter  to  a^yGeia. ;  the 
former  to  inchoate,  the  latter  to  perfect  Christianity  ? 
But,  after  all,  I  fear  it  is  impertinent,  or  at  best 
supererogatory,  to  throw  out  these  criticisms  to  you, 
who  have  made  yourself  a  master  of  the  epistle  to 
the  Ephesians. 

I  regret  that  you  should  have  so  much  trouble 


585 


about  my  books;  but  I  presume  that  it  would  be 
the  best  plan,  to  get  them  back  from  the  lodging 
house,  at  which  they  were  left.  If  Keene  or  Mer- 
cier  have  got  any  thing  that  I  ought  to  have,  or  if 
the  30th  No.  of  the  Edin.  Rev.  be  out,  I  would 
thank  you  to  send  them  by  Mr.  Jellett ;  also  to  get  me 
a  12mo.  paper  book,  bound  in  red  morocco,  of  the 
best  yellow-wove  paper,  and  send  it,  also,  by  the 
same  opportunity.  My  scrap-book  is  almost  tilled, 
and  I  wish  to  have  another  to  succeed  it. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Friend, 

And  believe  me  ever, 

most  affectionately  yours, 

John  J ebb. 


LETTER  84. 

2b  the  Rev.  J.  Jehh. 

Dawson  St.,  April  18.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Whatever  I  can  put  upon  this  paper,  between 
the  present  moment  and  the  latest  post  hour,  you 
shall  have,  though  it  cost  me  three  pence  sterling. 

I  give  you  the  fac-simile  of  Griesbach  . 

6  yap  xap7 rog  too  h<f>«To$  si/  Traeryj  aya^axroj/v)  xou  ^ixaiocnjvf) 
xou  OLhrfeia.. 

h  7TV£U[J.aT0£< 

h  ABD*EFG  6.  10.  17.  4*7.  67.** Barb.  1  Syr.  Erp.  Copt.  Sahid. 
Aeth.  Arm.  Vulg.  II.  Greg.  Thaumat.  Lucif.  Ambest.  Auct.  de  sin¬ 
gular.  Cleric.  Hier.  Aug.  Pel.  Tmt^aro?  (pug.  71.  ap.  Birch, 


586 


If  you  can  make  out  his  meaning,  I  shall  be  glad ; 
but  I  am  incompetent,  not  having  studied  his  scheme. 
But  I  guess  he  is  with  you ;  though  the  small  letters 
in  the  text,  and  the  large  in  the  margin,  would 
seem  to  imply  that  the  alteration  was  hesitatingly 
made.  For  many  reasons,  I  deem  the  V ulgate, 
strong  authority.  It  is,  to  my  mind,  equivalent,  to 
undisturbed  possession  for  so  many  years ;  which 
is  a  good  title,  until  a  better  can  be  opposed  to  it. 

I  have  time  only  to  add,  that,  from  full  examin¬ 
ation  of  Collier’s  Eccles.  Hist.,  I  have  determined 
to  secure  one,  in  the  present  sale,  for  you,  it  being 
a  work  you  ought  to  have ;  and  to  mention  a  saying 
of  Ridley,  in  one  of  his  very  latest  letters,  which, 
probably,  you  are  already  possessed  of.  In  speaking 
of  Knox’s  opposition  (at  Frankfort)  to  private  bap¬ 
tism,  he  asks,  ‘  What  would  he,  in  that  case,  should 
be  done?  Peradventure,  he  will  say,  it  is  better, 
then,  to  let  them  die  without.  For  this,  his  better , 
what  word  hath  he  in  Scripture?  And  if  he  have 
none,  why  will  he  not  rather  follow  that,  which  the 
sentence  of  the  ancient  writers  does  more  allow? 
From  whom  to  dissent,  without  warrant  of  God’s 
word,  I  cannot  think  it  any  godly  wisdom.’ 

There  was  a  golden  saying !  That  is  the  right 
principle,  the  safe  path,  as  well  expressed  as  it  could 
be  in  human  language. 

Ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


58  7 


LETTER  XC1I. 
To  A .  Knox,  Esq. 


Cashel,  April  18.  1810 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  must  write  a  few  lines  to  say,  that  though,  from 
the  severe  weather,  far  from  comfortable  in  body,  I 
could  not  have  been,  at  present,  so  sickly  in  mind, 
as  to  misinterpret,  or  misconceive  your  silence. 
Your  letter,  however,  has  been  most  acceptable; 
as,  indeed,  it  always  is  a  cordial  to  me,  to  read  your 
hand- writing  on  a  superscription. 

Many  thanks  for  your  interesting  quotation.  It 
just  falls  in  with  some  of  my  late  inquiries  ;  and 
shall  be  added  to  my  collections.  1  have  just  read 
the  letter  at  large.  Pray,  are  you  aware,  that  in 
the  year  1571?  in  full  convocation,  and  with  the 
sanction  of  Elizabeth,  the  following  canon  was  passed, 
‘  De  concionatoribus’? 

‘  Imprimis  vero  videbunt,  lie  quid  unquam  doceant 
pro  concione  quod  a  populo  religiose  teneri  et  credi 
velint,  nisi  quod  consentaneum  sit  doctrinse  Veteris 
aut  Novi  Testamenti ;  quodque  ex  ilia  ipsa  doctrina, 
catholici  patres  et  veteres  episcopi  collegerint.’*  This 
is  one  of  my  strongest  authorities ;  but  I  have  others, 
too,  very  curious. 

Do  you  know,  too,  that,  in  giving  the  college 

*  Concerning  preachers.  —  Above  all,  they  must  beware  lest,  at  any  time, 
they  teach  any  thing;  in  the  face  of  the  congregation,  which  they  desire  to  be  i-eli- 
giously  held  and  believed  by  the  people,  unless  what  is  clearly  consentaneous  to 
the  teaching  of  the  Old,  or  of  the  New,  Testament ;  and  what  the  catholic 
fathers,  and  ancient  bishops,  have  drawn  from  that  teaching. 


588 


library  the  original  Rambler,  you  give  it  a  very 
valuable  document.  Mr.  Chalmers,  in  his  late 
preface,  having  stated,  that  there  are  no  less  than 
6000  corrections,  chiefly  in  point  of  style,  made 
in  the  work,  as  afterwards  collected  into  volumes. 
Mr.  C.  has  given  an  entire  paper,  as  it  stands  in 
the  original ;  and  I  have  been  amusing  myself,  this 
morning,  by  collating  it.  The  alterations,  are  just 
such,  as  I  should  have  myself  been  likely  to  wish 
for.  Compare,  e.  g.  the  following  passage  of  No. 
180.,  as  it  originally  stood,  with  the  present  copy. 
‘  Such,  however,  is  the  state  of  the  world,  that  the 
most  obsequious  of  the  slaves  of  pride,  the  most 
rapturous  of  the  gazers  upon  wealth,  the  most  of¬ 
ficious  whisperers  of  greatness,  are  to  be  collected 
from  these  seminaries,  which  are  appropriated  to  the 
study  of  wisdom,  and  the  contemplation  of  virtue  ; 
in  which  it  was  intended,  that  appetite  should  learn 
to  be  content  with  little,  and  hope  to  aspire  to 
honours,  which  no  human  power  can  give  or  take 
away/ 

Could  you  tell  Mr.  Jellett  to  get  me,  at  Keene’s, 
Adam  Clarke’s  Succession  of  Sacred  Literature,  and 
bring  it  with  him.  I  gave  mine  to.  H.  Woodward. 
I  must  have  done. 

Ever  most  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


58  9 


LETTER  XCIII. 

To  A.  Knox,  Esq . 


Cashel,  April  24.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  have  barely  time  to  say,  that  I  am  now  about  to 
enclose  your  character  of  Jellett  to  the  Archbishop ; 
not  being  sufficiently  at  leisure  to  call  with  it  myself. 
I  have  prepared  the  way,  by  telling  the  Archbishop  ; 
and  I  believe  there  will  be  no  objection  to  taking 
J.  on  trial,  though  he  is,  for  the  present,  to  know 
nothing  of  such  an  intention. 

I  enclose  you  a  half  note  for  50/. ;  and,  when 
this  is  acknowledged,  shall  send  the  other.  I  hope 
that  you  have  not  been  inconvenienced  by  the  loan  ; 
could  I  have  replaced  it,  you  should  not  have  been 
so  long  unpaid. 

My  sermon  occupies  my  mind  fully ;  especially, 
as  I  have  transferred  not  quite  a  page  to  paper.  A 
train  of  thought  and  inquiry  has  been  opened  by  it, 
which,  however  I  may  fail,  for  the  immediate  object 
of  this  ordination,  I  should  like  to  pursue  for  some 
months,  if  I  were  left  completely  my  own  master ; 
and  to  lay  the  result  before  the  public. 

Yours  ever,  my  dear  Friend, 

*  most  affectionately, 

John  Jebb. 


590 


LETTER  85. 
To  the  Rev.  J.  Jebb. 


Bellevue,  April  27.  1810- 


My  dear  Friend, 

I  have  time  only  to  tell  you,  that  I  received  yours, 
here,  yesterday. 

I  am  very  glad  things  are  in  such  train  about 
J.  ;  but  still  more  glad,  that  there  is  a  prospect  of 
your  being  relieved  from  a  burthen,  in  which  I  have 
most  truly  sympathized  j  understanding,  well  and 
thoroughly,  what  it  could  not  but  imply. 

I  came  here  on  tuesday,  and  must  return  on 
monday  ;  so  that  you  may  direct  to  Dublin.  I  shall 
be  curious  to  know  the  nature  of  your  train  of 
thought. 

I  did  not  tell  you  how  very  much  I  admire  H.W.’s 
paper.  There  is  a  style  of  thinking  in  it,  which  to 
me  appears  masterly  ;  and  which,  I  hope  and  trust, 
will  be  exercised  with  equal  strength,  on  ampler,  and 
more  momentous  subjects.  If  so,  he  may  absolutely 
do  great  things. 

Farewell,  my  dear  friend  ;  your  health,  and  com¬ 
fort,  and  studies,  and  thoughts,  will  ever  be  most 
interesting  to  him,  who  is, 


Most  truly  yours, 


A.  K. 


59 1 


LETTER  XCIV. 

To  A.  Knox ,  Esq. 

Cashel,  May  21.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

The  business  of  the  ordination  &c.  being  over,  I 
can  now  write  you  a  few  lines.  And  first,  let  me 
say,  what  I  know  you  will  be  rejoiced  to  hear;  the 
Archbishop  authorized  _me,  last  night,  to  acquaint 
Jellett  with  his  appointment,  as  assistant  preacher  :  I 
have  done  so  this  morning ;  and,  after  giving  him 
next  Sunday’s  law,  he  is  to  proceed.  I  like  him 
greatly.  In  examining  him,  I  could  not  help  think¬ 
ing,  that,  he  was  perfectly  qualified  to  discharge  the 
same  office  towards  me.  I  got  him  to  write  a  little 
paper  for  me  ;  which  was  drawn  up  with  great  neat¬ 
ness,  elegance,  and  perspicuity  \  condensing  much 
important  thought,  and  pious  feeling,  into  a  very 
narrow  compass.  He  has  opened  to  me  greatly  in 
conversation,  both  as  to  his  opinions,  and  as  to  him¬ 
self  ;  having  given  me  a  most  interesting  little  sketch 
of  his  life.  I  am  sure  he  will  be  a  great  acquisition  ; 
and  the  Archbishop,  I  believe,  thinks  so  too.  I 
showed  his  Grace  your  letter,  which  gave  him  full 
satisfaction. 

I  am  in  too  great  a  state  of  mental  exhaustion,  to 
form  any  sound  judgment  upon  my  sermon.  It  may 
be  positively  bad,  as  a  sermon  ;  and  it  may,  for 
ought  I  know,  be  more  than  tolerably  good.  The 
range  has  been  so  wide,  and  so  much  matter  has 
been  brought  together,  that  I  cannot  attempt  giving 


592 


a  sketch  of  my  plan  ;  bat  I  hope,  next  week,  to  copy 
and  send  it  to  you.  There  will  be  little  or  nothing 
new  to  you  :  yet  it  cost  me  a  prodigious  deal  of 
laborious  thinking  :  not,  thinking,  to  originate  argu¬ 
ment,  but  to  arrange,  to  methodize,  to  give  condens¬ 
ation,  consecutiveness,  and  if  possible,  unity,  to  a 
mass  of  materials.  The  Archbishop  has  asked  to 
borrow  it,  but  passed  no  manner  of  opinion.  By  the 
way,  has  the  Archbishop  of  D.  made  any  further 
observations?  If  so,  no  matter  how  unfavourable, 
I  should  like  to  hear  them :  at  any  fair  opportunity, 
you  might  tell  his  Grace,  that  I  feel  both  the  words 
he  has  objected  to  are  incorrect ;  and  that  I  should 
alter  them,  were  the  sermon  to  be  preached  over 
again.  I  love  to  have  special  objections  made. 
General  disapprobation,  often  mortifies,  without  ever 
conferring  benefit.  But  there  seldom  is  a  definite 
objection  made,  that,  whether  founded/  or  un¬ 
founded,  does  not  lead  one  to  discover  something 
wrong ;  some  nicer  shade  of  expression,  that  might 
be  improved;  some  word,  that  might  be  retrenched  ; 
or  something  explanatory,  that  might  be  added. 

I  am  delighted  at  your  high  approbation  of  H.  W.’s 
paper  ;  and  I  hope  you  have  sent  it  forward.  Have 
you  secured  the  Collier,  and  what  have  you  paid  for 
the  Chrysostom  ?  My  letter  must  now  be  closed, 
but  I  hope  to  write  at  length,  this  week,  or  the 
next. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Friend, 

and  believe  me  ever, 
most  faithfully  and  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


593 


LETTER  XCV. 
To  A .  Knox , 


Cashel,  May  14.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

The  harsh  easterly  winds  effectually  prevented  me, 
from  having,  long  since,  dispatched  a  large  packet  to 
you.  I  have  been  able  to  transcribe  a  very  small 
portion  of  my  sermon  :  which,  together  with  certain 
literary  projects  that  it  has  given  birth  to,  I  greatly 
wish  to  submit  to  your  judgment ;  intending  to  con¬ 
duct  myself  implicitly,  as  you  recommend.  J - ’s 

appointment  leaves  me,  as  I  conceive,  at  liberty  to 
pursue  my  own  plans  ;  and  assuredly,  it  is  very 
remote  from  my  wishes,  to  eat  the  bread  of  idleness. 
At  the  same  time,  I  have  little  doubt,  that  my  plans 
would  not  be  quite  to  the  mind  of  our  excellent 
friend.  He  would  like  to  have  me  at  details,  to 
which  I  am  incompetent ;  but,  if  I  had  the  sanction 
of  your  judgment,  I  should  not  suffer  myself,  on 
that  account,  to  be  prevented  from  taking  a  wider 
range,  more  suited  to  my  taste,  and  at  least,  not 
more  disproportioned  to  my  powers.  Before  this 
week  closes,  I  hope  to  lay  the  whole  before  you. 
By  the  way,  I  have  just  been  highly  gratified,  by 
reading  your  review.  It  is,  in  all  respects,  what  I 
could  wish  :  and,  if  you  could,  now  and  then,  en¬ 
deavour  to  indoctrinate  the  more  hopeful  of  the 
semi-evangelicals,  through  the  Chris.  Obs.,  by  simi¬ 
lar  productions,  you  might  do  a  great  service  ;  rather, 

VOL.  I.  QQ 


594 


indeed,  if  you  would  engage  in  publishing  a  volume 

of  essays. 

Jellett,  I  greatly  like ;  and,  what  is  of  more  con¬ 
sequence,  he  has  greatly  pleased  the  Archbishop. 
He  entered  on  his  duties  yesterday  se’nnight,  with 
an  excellent  sermon,  on  ‘  faith  which  worketh  by 
love/  You  have  seen  it,  as  it  originally  stood;  but 
he  made  very  considerable  alterations,  before  he 
submitted  it  to  my  inspection.  As  he  preached  it,  I 
question  whether  there  ever  came  from  the  pulpit, 
so  fully  matured  a  first  essay.  The  subject  matter, 
omni  exceptione  major  ;  the  illustrations  happy ;  the 
language  peculiarly  well  chosen  ;  and  the  style  ex¬ 
quisitely  chaste  and  simple.  He  has  a  fine  voice, 
too ;  and,  with  great  modesty,  was  perfectly  at  home 
in  the  pulpit.  The  Archbishop  was  delighted  ;  and 
I  am  sure  thought  Jellett’s  mode  of  preaching,  the 
very  thing  he  had  been  wishing  for.  I  am  sure  he  is 
qualified  to  do,  what  I  never  could  effect :  to  branch 
out  important  principles  into  detail ;  and  to  pursue 
them  through  their  consequences  and  results ;  thus 
or  thus  — <5  :  my  power  is  of  the  opposite  kind, 
to  combine,  and  to  trace  ramifications  to  their  root 
and  principle  ;  thus  or  thus  Each  mode 

is  useful  in  its  way  :  but  I  believe  the  Archbishop 
has  no  relish  for  the  latter.  I  preached  an  old 
sermon  yesterday,  that  I  might  give  J.  a  little  law. 
He  has  been  hard  at  work;  and  desires  me  to 
mention  this,  as  his  apology  for  not  having  written 
to  you.  Indeed,  at  this  moment,  he  is  composing  a 
sermon  in  my  other  room. 

The  books  have  safely  reached  this.  When  I 
asked,  could  you  distinguish  our  several  properties, 
I  had  a  view  to  strict  distributive  justice,  against 
which,  I  must  inform  you,  you  have  erred ;  inas- 


595 


much  as,  I  have  no  title  to  the  three  following 
articles ;  viz.  c  Winder’s  Hist,  of  Knowledge,’  ‘  Spar¬ 
row’s  Rationale  of  the  Common  Prayer,’  and  ‘  Drexe- 
lius  de  Vitiis  Linguae’ 

I  had  an  application  by  letter,  from  Mr.  Stewart, 
the  methodist  preacher  of  this  district,  through  the 
master  of  the  Charter  School,  for  aid  for  the  fund  of 
decayed  preachers  ;  so  I  called  this  morning  on  the 
latter,  and  gave  him  two  guineas  :  at  the  same  time, 
declining  to  become  an  annual  subscriber ;  and  tell¬ 
ing  my  mind  fully,  about  the  dissenting  overt-act 
of  the  last  conference.  This  was  new  to  Mr.  Watts, 
who  is  a  thorough  churchman.  He  took  in  excel¬ 
lent  part  all  that  I  said  ;  and  I  went  pretty  much  at 
large  into  the  evils  of  dissenterism.  Was  I  wrong  in 
all  this? 

Farewell,  my  dear  Friend, 

Ever  your  most  attached  and  affectionate, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  86. 

To  the  Rev.  J.  Jebb. 

May  14.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  could  wish  to  write  a  long  letter  to  you,  but  it 
must  be  a  short  one.  Your  last  gave  me  the  most 
heartfelt  pleasure  ;  and  I  have  been  looking  out  for 
the  sermon,  which  has  not  yet  arrived,  with  avidity  ; 
yet  I  do  not  wish  you  should  make  the  transcript 
more  expeditiously,  than  will  be  completely  com¬ 
fortable. 


qq2 


596 


Alas !  I  could  not  get  the  Collier :  for  the  Arch¬ 
bishop  of  C.  was  your  rival.  I  think  Ottridge  could 
get  it  for  you  at  once.  It  went  off  at  forty  shillings. 

I  got  the  Chrysostom  this  day,  at  seventeen  guineas 
and  a  half.  An  order  from  London  rose  to  seventeen 
guineas  ;  and  I  was  obliged  to  give  the  halfi  to  prove 
that  all  was  fair. 

I  have  very  much  to  put  on  paper,  in  writing  to 
you  ;  but  I  am  occupied.  How,  you  shall  know  ere 
it  be  long. 

Wilberforce’s  speech,  against  receiving  the  petition 

from  the - ,  delights  me.  I  am  very  glad  of  his 

taking  such  a  part  ;  and  what  he  has  done,  he  appears 
to  have  done  ably. 

Adieu,  my  dear  Friend,  ever  yours, 

A.  K. 

P,  S.  I  got  Lightfoot,  in  good  order,  for  11.  5s. 
Strype’s  Annals  for  Henry,  Edward,  Mary,  59s.  and 
A  little  Aquinas,  the  date  1497>  Ms.  4 \d.  Baronius’s 
Annals,  31.  12s.,  and  St.  Cyril  of  Jerusalem,  11.  4s. 


LETTER  XCVI. 
To  A.  Knox,  Esq. 


May  17.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

The  accompanying  sermon  has  been  transcribed, 
under  the  influence  of  an  easterly  wind  ;  and,  I  con¬ 
sequently  fear,  much  may  be  illegible. 


597 


You  will  observe  that  the  close  is  huddled  up.  I 
had  neither  time,  nor  space,  to  complete  my  plan. 
It  had  been  my  intention  to  show,  both  the  light, 
and  the  shade,  of  our  Church  of  England,  as  those 
of  the  church  at  large  :  and  to  specify,  that,  analogous 
to  heresies  which  uncatholicized,  were  popery,  on  the 
one  hand,  and  dissenterism,  on  the  other;  by  a  con¬ 
flict  with  which,  our  church  had  its  character  formed, 
from  the  Reformation,  till  the  Revolution  :  that,  from 
that  period,  the  foes  were  more  of  the  household, 
analogous  to  errors,  which  did  not  uncatholicize  ;  the 
dread  of  popery  being  removed,  by  the  expulsion  of 
the  Stuarts,  and  the  fierceness  of  dissenterism  miti¬ 
gated,  by  the  act  of  toleration.  Thence,  within  the 
pale  of  the  Church  of  England,  her  true  sons  kept 
the  mean,  between  rationalizing  Christianity,  on  the 
one  hand,  and  dogmatizing  doctrinality,  on  the  other. 
The  former,  the  offspring  of  Hales,  Chillingworth, 
and  the  remonstrants ;  the  latter,  the  genuine  de¬ 
scendants  of  those  doctrinal  puritans,  who,  after  the 
Marian  persecution,  did  not  separate  from  the  church; 
and  who,  before  the  revolution,  had  been  employed 
against  the  common  enemy,  . .  the  dissenters  and  the 
papists.  And  I  should  have  attempted  to  suggest  the 
beneficial  results  to  our  church,  of  these  collisions. 

The  plan  which  I  now  have  in  view,  is  to  divide 
the  sermon,  as  it  now  stands,  into  two  parts.  The 
first,  before  ;  the  second,  after  the  Reformation  ;  and 
into  the  second  part,  to  introduce  the  above  train  of 
thought.  These  two  sermons,  I  should  like  to  preach 
in  the  College  Chapel,  next  year ;  and,  in  the  interim, 
to  prepare  materials  for,  and  even  enter  on  the  com¬ 
position  of  dissertations,  which  would  grow  out  of 
the  discourses ;  and  which,  with  them,  might  form  a 
not  unsystematic  volume. 

q  q  3 


598 


I  am  anxious  not  to  eat  the  bread  of  idleness  ;  and 
think  that  this  work  may  be  particularly  suited  to 
my  habits  and  relishes.  It  may,  indeed,  be  too  great 
for  my  powers.  But  consisting  of  dissertations,  each 
of  which  is  to  be  a  whole,  I  might  make  short  stages 
on  my  journey.  I  wish  for  your  opinion,  whether 
to  give  myself*  to  this  pursuit,  or  to  relinquish  it. 
Premising,  that,  if  this  be  relinquished,  I  intreat  you 
will  point  out  some  line  of  occupation  ;  for  my  trains 
of  thinking,  and  my  habits  of  mental  movement,  are 
altogether  alien,  from  sermon-making  for  a  common 
congregation.  I  shall  be  happy  to  have  your  thoughts, 
and  to  abide  by  your  decision.  But,  as  I  am  writing 
against  time,  I  can  now  only  subjoin  the  titles  of  such 
subjects  as  have  occurred  to  me  j  for  every  one  of 
which,  you  will  see  there  is,  or  may  be,  a  hook  pro¬ 
vided  in  the  discourse. 


1.  On  the  commission  of  our  Lord  to  the  apostles,  as  recorded  by 

the  four  Evangelists. 

2.  On  the  plan  of  individual  conversion. 

3.  On  miraculous  power  in  the  first  three  centuries;  with  reference 

to  Middleton,  Farmer,  and  to  the  whole  sadducean  system. 

4.  On  the  persecutions  :  with  reference  to  Dodwell’s  scheme  ;  and 

to  Gibbon. 

5.  On  national  Christianity,  as  a  continuation  and  expansion  of 

judaism. 

6.  On  the  character  of  ecclesiastical  historians  ;  and  on  the  best 

manner  of  extracting  from  them,  a  just  view  of  Christian  doc¬ 
trine  and  practice,  in  the  different  ages  of  the  church. 

7.  On  the  influence  and  bearing  of  special  events,  upon  the  general 

system. 

8.  On  the  uses  of  heresies. 

9*  On  the  principle  of  our  English  reformation.  Quod  semper, 
quod  ubique,  quod  ab  omnibus;  illustrated  b}T  our  Articles, 
Homilies,  Liturgy,  by  the  canon  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  by  Rid- 


599 


ley,  Sir  D.  Carlton,  Overal,  Grotius,  Casaubon,  Jewel,  Mede, 
Hammond,  Beveridge,  Bull,  Leslie,  Mosheim,  &c.  &c.  &c., 
with  an  analysis  and  defence  of  Vincentius  against  Lardner. 

10.  Same  subject,  with  reference  to  the  works  of  Barbeyrac, 

Daille,  and  Whitby,  against  the  fathers.  On  the  right  use  of 
the  fathers. 

11.  Difference  of  the  Church  of  England,  from  other  branches  of 

the  Reformation. 

12.  On  the  Liturgy. 

13.  On  the  spirit  of  our  church,  as  an  establishment. 

14.  On  the  balance  of  parties  in  the  Church  of  England. 

15.  On  dogmatical  doctrinality. 

16.  On  rationalism. 

17.  On  methodism. 

18.  On  the  characters  of  our  chief  Divines,  in  the  church  of 

England. 

19.  On  the  present  state  of  the  church. 

20.  On  the  studies  of  clergymen,  and  particularly  on  the  philoso¬ 

phical  character  of  Scripture  ;  with  a  view  of  heb.  poetry, 
in  the  New  Testament. 

21.  On  the  best  mode,  in  which  clergymen  of  our  church  may 

co-operate  with  the  great  providential  system. 


These,  my  dear  Friend,  have  been  thrown  down 
with  the  utmost  rapidity ;  but  I  hope  they  may  put 
you  tolerably  in  possession  of  my  meaning.  You 
may  either  encourage  me  to  proceed,  or  place  an 
extinguisher. 

I  shall  be  greatly  gratified  to  know,  when  you 
have  leisure,  how  you  have  been  occupied.  No 
person  living,  perhaps,  takes  such  an  interest  in  your 

occupations.  - - said  to  me,  ‘  Mr.  Jebb,  did  you 

ever  read  any  thing  more  beautiful  than  the  review 
of  Taylor?’  I  replied,  that  I  liked  it  exceedingly, 
but  that  I  had  read  what  pleased  me  as  much.  I 
had  no  time  for  further  explanation,  but  shall  recal 
the  subject  to-day.  You  know  my  cordial,  and  de- 

q  Q  4 


600 


cided  opinion  of  the  review.  But  we  are  both  fond 
of  being  appropriately  discriminative  in  our  approba¬ 
tion.  I  think  I  shall  satisfy  • - ;  but  I  hope  to  see, 

from  you,  many  papers  equally  good,  and  some  more 
beautiful  than  the  review ;  which,  be  it  observed,  I 
think  better  executed,  than  either  of  your  former 
articles  in  the  Eclectic. 

I  felicitate  you  on  all  your  good  bargains ;  but 
St.  Chrysostom  above  all.  Farewell,  my  dear  Friend, 

Ever,  most  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  87. 

To  the  Rev.  J .  Jebb. 


May  17.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Be  it  much  or  little,  I  must  write  to  you,  in  reply  to 
yours  received  yesterday. 

I  suppose - ’s  essay  will  most  certainly  appear 

in  the  next  C.  O.  Governor  M - note,  of  May 

7th,  is  as  follows  :  — 

‘  I  was  much  gratified,  a  few  days  since,  by  receiv¬ 
ing  a  note  from  you,  accompanying  a  very  useful,  and 
well  written  paper,  on  the  subject,  &c.  &c.,  which  is 
now  in  the  hands  of  the  printer  of  the  Chris.  Obs. 
#  #  #  I  assure  you,  sir,  I,  and  the  members  of  the 
circle  in  which  I  usually  move,  retain  a  very  lively 
recollection  of  the  pleasure  which  we  derived,  from 
your  society,  and  that  of  Mr.  Jebb ;  and  as  we  are 
separated  by  so  envious  a  distance,  we  should  be  glad 


601 


to  receive,  occasionally,  some  proof,  both  of  your  re¬ 
membrance  of  us,  and  of  your  wish  to  contribute  to 
our  enjoyment  and  edification.’ 

I  am  gratified  by  your  unqualified  liking  of  the  re¬ 
view;  I  must  give  you  an  extract  from  Parken’s*  letter 
to  me. 

c  It  is  impossible  I  should  speak  of  the  remarks  on 
Taylor  in  terms,  that  would  not  expose  me  to  the 
suspicion  of  flattery.  The  beauty  of  the  critical  opi¬ 
nions,  the  elegance  of  the  style,  the  unquestionable 
accuracy,  as  well  as  depth,  of  many  observations,  will 
probably  protect  the  passages  which  bear  hard  upon 
the  systematic  theologians,  from  any  great  severity  of 
censure.  Hitherto,  I  have  heard  nothing  but  appro¬ 
bation  expressed.  But  I  cannot  doubt,  that  many 
zealous,  good  men,  who  preach  the  primary  truths  of 
religion,  and  deal  in  controversy,  will  give  me  their 
opinions  in  a  different  tone.  In  deference  to  them, 
as  well  as  from  a  wish  to  print  nothing  I  thought  ca¬ 
pable  of  injurious  misrepresentation,  I  have  presumed 
to  qualify  one  phrase ;  which  is  the  only  instance  of 
alteration,  I  believe,  in  the  whole  article.  Instead  of 
‘  those  who  had  never  wandered,’  it  reads,  ‘  those 
who,  in  some  sense,  had  never  wandered’.’ 

I  will  not  fall  out  with  him,  for  that  single  quali¬ 
fication. 

Butterworth  has  sent  me  my  letter  of  105  pages, 
written  in  1807  ?  and,  along  with  other  kind  things, 
he  says, 

‘  I  have  frequent  reason  to  advert  to  your  senti- 

*  In  1 809  (when  they  met  in  London, )  this  gentleman  drew  a  description  of 
Mr.  Knox’s  person  and  manner,  together  with  the  character  of  his  eloquence  in 
conversation  ;  the  fidelity  of  which,  will  at  once  be  recognized,  by  all  who  knew 
him:  it  possesses,  in  truth,  the  realizing  properties  of  portrait-painting.  This 
felicitous  sketch  will  be  found,  in  the  Introduction  to  Bishop  Jebb’s  edition  of 
Burnet’s  Lives.  .  .  Ed. 


602 


ments ;  and  I  think  substantial  benefit  has  been  de¬ 
rived  from  them.  My  son  (who  is,  at  this  moment  I 
am  now  writing,  gone  to  church  for  confirmation, 
after  much  previous  thought,  prayer,  and  counsel) 
has  been  reading  your  letter  with  deep  attention,  and 
much  pleasure.  It  is,  my  dear  sir,  a  matter  of  no 
small  consolation,  that  a  boy  of  seventeen,  is  directing 
his  thoughts  to  these  subjects.’ 

I  fear,  I  shall  be  too  late. 

Ever  yours, 

A.  K. 


LETTER  88. 

To  the  Rev ,  J,  Jebb. 


May  29.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  am  this  afternoon  at  liberty  to  say  something  to 
you  ;  every  hour  which  I  could  command,  being  em¬ 
ployed,  till  now,  on  the  object  of  which  I  gave  you 
a  vague  hint.  The  truth  is,  I  was  not  easy,  till  I  had 
completed  my  plan.  I  was  not  uneasy ;  on  the  con¬ 
trary,  my  work  was  highly  pleasant  to  me  ;  but  I 
could  not  be  at  ease,  in  going  to  any  thing  else.  This 
day,  the  last  of  my  manuscript  went  to  the  book¬ 
seller  ;  and  therefore  I  can,  at  this  moment,  follow 
my  inclination. 

I  have,  in  short,  now  lying  before  me,  forty  printed 
pages  of  a  defence  of  the  R.  C.s  against  Dr.Duigenan’s 
two  positions,  of  constitutional  incapacitation,  and 
moral  unfitness  ;  the  one,  founded  on  the  articles  of 


603 


union  with  Scotland ;  the  other,  on  the  doctrine  of 
exclusive  salvation.  I  have  replied  to  both ;  and  I 
cannot  but  hope,  that  you  will  approve  of  the  course 
I  have  taken.  I  found  a  necessity  for  notes.  I  have 
allowed  myself  to  be  so  copious  in  them,  that  I  sup¬ 
pose  the  different  size  of  the  type  will  alone  prevent 
the  hinder  parts  of  the  periwig,  preponderating  against 
its  front. 

Possibly,  by  to-morrow’s  post,  I  may  send  you  the 
body  of  the  pamphlet ;  its  eleven  satellites  must  be 
waited  for  ;  for  so  many  are  my  notes,  and  some  of 
them  little  essays.  I  do  not  know  how  I  shall  be 
read ;  but  I  do  know,  I  have  wrought  pleasantly  5 
and  I  never  sent  any  thing  to  the  press,  with  more 
harmonic  concurrence  of  my  head  and  heart. 

Time  for  me,  now,  to  thank  you  for  your  ordination 
sermon.*  Every  thing,  (I  believe  I  may  have  marked 
some  little  matter,  to  be  taken  ad  referendum,  but 
substantially  every  thing,)  I  approved  of;  and  the 
latter  part,  greatly  and  deeply  liked.  Vires  acquirit 
eundo.  You  walked  with  a  strong,  but  very  distinct 
step,  through  the  former  part ;  but,  toward  the  close, 
you  stretch  your  wings,  and  fly.  I  cannot  but  like 
your  plan  of  enlargement.  Every  point  in  it,  we  have 
passed  through  together,  either  conjointly,  or  sympa¬ 
thetically.  The  latter  curiously,  in  the  case  of  Vin- 
centius  Lirinensis,  and  Lardner.  I  assure  you,  within 
this  month,  I  read,  with  much  motion  of  my  spirit 
within  me,  what  Lardner  so  densely  and  dully  says, 
against  the  quod  ubique,  quod  semper,  quod  ab 
omnibus. 

I  must  stop,  for  my  labour  (Kempis  says  ‘  easy 
businesses  are  hard  to  the  weak’)  has  tired  me.  Tell 


*  See  ‘  Practical  Theology’,  Vol.  I.  Discourse  vii.  .  .  Ed. 


604> 


Miss - ,  my  next  thought  will  be  to  write  to  her. 

But  that  will  probably  not  be,  till  I  have  witnessed 

the  establishment  of — —  in  D - .  If  I  am 

able,  I  go  there  on  friday.  He  is  not  yet  come  ;  but 
I  reckon  on  his  being  here  on  thursday.  Tell  the 
Archbishop,  when  you  see  him,  that  he  is  never  long 
out  of  my  thoughts.  Many  times,  I  am  sure,  I  think 
of  him,  every  day  of  my  life.  Tell  Jellett,  and  Jas. 
Forster,  I  remember  them.  In  truth,  I  forget  nobody 
that  loves  me. 

Ever  yours, 

Alex.  Knox. 


LETTER  XCVII. 
To  A .  Knooc ,  Esq . 


Glankeen,  June  2.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

I  had  been  in  hopes  of  hearing  from  you  before  I 
left  Cashel,  at  the  beginning  of  this  week ;  and  on 
coming  here,  gave  directions,  that  any  letter  of  yours 
might  be  forwarded  to  me  by  a  special  messenger.  I 
am  well  convinced,  that  there  is  no  voluntary  omis¬ 
sion  in  the  case.  Your  mind  may,  most  probably, 
have  been  fully  engaged  about  other  matters  ;  and, 
whenever  it  is  so  engaged,  ‘  in  commoda  publica 
peccenT,  if  I  should  wish,  for  a  moment,  to  divert 
your  thoughts.  But  let  me  say,  I  am  not  without 
apprehensions,  that  not  approving  either  my  sermon, 
or  the  scheme  founded  upon  it,  or  both  one  and  the 
other,  you  have  felt  somewhat  at  a  loss  what  reply  to 


605 


give.  If  this  be  so,  it  is  my  most  cordial  wish  to  free 
you  from  any  difficulty,  which  kindness  and  delicacy 
may  have  imposed.  In  laying  my  thoughts  before 
you,  I  wished,  simply,  as  I  said,  to  be  implicitly 
guided  by  your  opinion.  The  sermon  may,  very  pos¬ 
sibly,  have  been  ill  judged ;  and  the  plan  founded  on 
it,  may,  perhaps,  be  still  more  objectionable.  I  must 
cordially  confess  my  incapacity  of  judging;  but,  I 
may  safely  say,  that  I  never  was  more  deeply  per¬ 
suaded  of  the  expediency  of  keeping  myself  quiet. 
Prematurity  of  effort,  is,  in  all  matters,  to  be  depre¬ 
cated;  but,  most  of  all,  in  enunciating  any  part  of 
our  system.  Besides,  it  would  remain  t(T  be  con¬ 
sidered,  whether,  at  any  time,  I  should  be  likely  to 
produce  those  opinions  with  effect.  I  am  perfectly 
willing  to  remain  in  the  back  ground,  so  long  as  that 
appears,  to  your  judgment,  my  proper  destination ; 
and  even  should  it  never  be  my  lot  to  emerge,  I  trust 
I  should  be  enabled  to  acquiesce,  with  cheerfulness 
and  complacency.  That  I  have  hitherto  been  ham¬ 
pered  by  impediments,  both  internal  and  external,  is 
to  me  a  manifest,  and  most  beneficial  appointment  of 
Providence  ;  and,  if  a  similar  discipline  be  continued, 
I  question  not,  the  day  will  come,  when  it  will  ap¬ 
pear  to  have  been  yet  more  gracious  and  salutary. 
The  truth  is,  that,  however  remarkable  my  course  of 
discipline  may  be,  it  is  a  far  less  severe  one,  than 
many  others  have  found  it  their  happiness  to  un¬ 
dergo  ;  and,  whether  the  progress  is  to  become  more, 
or  less,  of  a  trying  nature,  I  feel,  I  trust,  an  unpre- 
sumptuous  confidence,  that  the  result  will  not  be 
grievous,  but  joyous ;  and  a  sure  conviction,  that  the 
intermediate  stages  will  present  no  trials,  but  such  as 
shall  be  strictly  oLvSpco7rivoc. 

I  could  say  much  to  you,  about  many  matters,  did 


606 


time,  or  the  circumstances  in  which  I  now  am,  admit 
of  it.  Tell  Miss  F.,  with  my  best  regards,  that  I 
have,  after  a  shameful  delay,  finished  the  little  Itine¬ 
rary*,  and  shall  take  an  early  opportunity  of  sending  it. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Friend, 

Ever,  most  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 


LETTER  XCVIII. 
To  A.  Knox,  Esq . 


June  5.  1810. 

My  dear  Friend, 

Many  thanks  for  your  letter  and  parcel,  which  I 
found  on  my  return  from  Glankeen.  The  former, 
far  outgoes  my  expectation ;  I  had  looked  for  a 
far  different  judgment,  both  of  my  sermon,  and  my 
essay  plan.  As  to  your  pamphlet,  I  have  not  been 
able  yet,  to  gratify  myself  with  a  single  page.  The 
Archbishop  evidently  wished  for  a  first  reading  of  it, 
and  I  have  but  just  got  it  back.  I  keep  it  for  a  bonne 
bouche  in  the  evening,  having  many  letters  to  di¬ 
spatch  by  post.  I  am  truly  delighted  at  your  having 


*  Of  the  excursion  to  England,  in  the  summer  of  the  preceding  year  (1809.), 
in  which  Mr.  Knox  and  the  Bishop  had  been  accompanied  by  the  excellent 
person  here  alluded  to,  and  so  frequently  mentioned  throughout  the  Correspond¬ 
ence.  For  a  still  longer  term  of  years,  Miss  Fergusson  had  been  to  Mr.  Knox, 
all  that  Mrs.  Unwin  had  been  to  Cowper.  It  will  hereafter  appear,  that  the 
Itinerary  of  their  English  tour,  drawn  up  on  a  sheet  of  letter-paper  by  Mr.  Jebb, 
at  the  request  of  this  lady,  was  by  her  carefully  preserved  till  her  death,  in 
1828-9.  Shortly  before,  she  had  shown  it  to  Mr.  Knox,  as  a  memorial  of 
former  days.  The  beautiful  MS.  was  returned  to  the  Bishop,  on  his  friend’s 
death ;  and  is  now  in  the  editor’s  possession. 


607 


taken  up  this  subject ;  and  can  venture  to  predict, 
that  I  shall  thoroughly  approve.  The  truth  is,  I  ex¬ 
pect  both  an  infusion  of  new  ideas,  and  an  establish¬ 
ment  (that  I  may  change  the  metaphor)  of  old. 

The  Archbishop  probably  told  you  of  the  living  of 
Abington  being  now  mine.  It  is  worth,  I  believe, 
1000/.  per  ann.,  with  an  incomparable  house,  &c. 
(for  which  I  must  pay  smartly.)  But  what  delights 
me,  is  the  situation.  It  is  sufficiently  near  Cashel, 
(twenty-four  miles)  to  admit  of  occasional  visits,  for 
a  few  days  at  a  time  ;  and  sufficiently  remote,  to  leave 
me  a  free-agent.  It  sends  me  to  act  in  a  new  sphere  ; 
when,  perhaps,  my  occupation  was  almost  gone  in 
the  present.  It  constitutes  me  a  sort  of  centre  to 
the  diocese  of  Emly  ;  and  it  places  me  within  nine 
miles  of  Limerick.  Who  can  tell,  but  that  some 
providential  purpose  may  be  answered,  by  my  being 
brought  into  the  sphere  of  a  great  city  ;  already  the 
theatre  of  theological  disputes  ;  where  Calvinism  is 
incipient ;  and  where  the  opponents  of  Calvinism, 
may  possibly  receive  some  indoctrination  ?  I  wish  not 
to  be  sanguine,  but  odd  presentiments  have  occurred 
to  me ;  and  I  know  not  whether  I  should,  with 
equal  satisfaction,  view  my  advancement,  to  any  other 
preferment  in  his  Grace’s  gift. 

To  Whitty  he  has  given  Kiltinane ;  and  to  poor 
J.  Torrens,  Whitty’s  living,  worth  160/.  per  ann.,  to 
help  out  his  school.  Is  not  this  well  ? 

I  hope  you  will  come  amongst  us.  You  are  most 

earnestly  wished  for  at  the  palace.  - ’s  heart  is 

set  upon  your  coming :  I  need  not  say  what  I  feel. 
In  1805,  you  immediately  succeeded  my  appoint¬ 
ment  to  Kiltinane  :  may  I  not,  in  1810,  hope  for 
your  benediction,  on  my  movement  to  Abington  ?  I 
shall  hereafter  have  room  enough  for  my  friends.  It 


608 


would  be  my  happiness,  to  have  one  apartment  de¬ 
nominated  yours ;  and  entitled  to  the  denomination, 
by  your  occasional  occupancy  of  it :  and  you  must 
also  know,  that  your  visits  would  be  deemed  by  me 
lame  and  incomplete,  without  the  accompaniment  of 
my  kind  and  valued  fellow-traveller.  In  truth,  my 
dear  friend,  it  would  rob  my  settlement  of  one  of  its 
principal  charms,  if  you  were  to  deny  me  the  pro¬ 
spect  of  having  you  and  Miss  F.  under  my  roof.  Be 
so  good  as  to  purchase  for  me,  and  bring  along  with 
you,  for  I  look  upon  your  visit  to  Cashel  as  settled, 
Miss  Smith’s  Job,  and  Duigenan’s  work,  which  I 
have  not  read  ;  also,  for  Whitty,  Cowper’s  transla¬ 
tion  of  Madame  Guion’s  hymns. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Friend, 

Ever  most  affectionately  yours, 

John  Jebb. 

P.  S.  I  wish  you  could  come  before  the  visitation. 
It  would  be  a  scene  that  would  please  you ;  and  I 
also  should  be  gratified,  by  your  witnessing  the  deco¬ 
rum  and  moderation  of  a  Cashel  visitation  dinner. 


END  OF  THE  FIRST  VOLUME. 


London : 

Printed  by  A.  Sfottiswoode, 
N  e\v-  Street-  Squ  are. 


HOWHoemn 


